Kyy could feel the sharpened claws of anxiety tearing at the lining of his stomach. He had just pressed shut the door of his home and ward - and yet, it felt like it was howling at him. Screaming, wailing, praying. Begging him to not leave. Go back. The stallion shook his head vigorously, the corners of his mouth pulling apart into a momentary snarl. His front hooves pummeled the ground beneath him, each of them once. Stop that. The setting sun painted the village's numerous roofs with wide strokes of red and orange. Kyy glanced at the washed linen, bandages, and towels beside him, that hung from multiple rows of clothesline. They worried not of his unease, or what went on in the world around them. They only did what they were meant to do - now dry out, and then serve again, until the circle had to begin anew. Somehow, their hideously stained appearance gave the young stallion a breeze of peace, that swept through his musty thoughts. They had seen use, and it showed - but they