"Got it." Stagelight shuffled off her saddlebags and, with them, a few feathers. She had begun to molt, as she tends to do under stress. "Oh dear. This isn't going to be a problem, is it? Don't want any feathers getting into her wounds." She laughed nervously and tried to hold her wings away from the injured fillly. Stagey brushed her hair out of her face, needing her right eye as unobstructed as possible. The mare no longer cared if those present saw her disfigurement. She knelt in front of Cinnamon and put her hooves on the pony's leg. "Like this?"