When the world had a tendency to steal you, and precious little loved ones from you, it had a lasting effect - sometimes, not a great one. Every time Cirilla would leave the den to find that Benkei was gone from the den, her anxiety would spike, and all she could think of was oh no, not again and she’d drop what she was doing and go on a hunt for him - similar to a dog who’d given birth and lost her puppies, because, really, what was the difference?

But hearing the barks of laughter was like a beckon locator, and Cirilla bounced on over towards them with a sigh of sweet relief, taking in his citrus herbal scent and with flared nostrils as she looked over at - oh, she knew that face, and she knew it well.

Serafina.

Would she take to the news as well as her sister had?