The highs in life were ever-tempered by the lows.

Kaphiri basked in the glow of the life he'd built alongside his newlywed, but dark clouds gathered on their idyllic horizon. There had been brief, unsure warning, and then... an entire family, gone. Their Matriarch, gone. The Stormhorse was left with an aching heart longing for the friends he'd made, the packmates he'd come to feel protective over, but life never had been simple for him. It'd always been a struggle, a never-ending climb, a fight to prove himself worthy.

But he would stay, and he would wait for the return of Fable and her clan -- for they had to come back, surely? He would make sure Avon would stay strong in their absence, to carry on in their honor and live a life they'd be proud of. When they returned... they would find home warm and ready to accept them back with open arms. Until then... it was just the daily grind of pushing down the grief, of relishing the happy moments and throwing his time into being a good packmate and husband.
He'd come to adapt well to hunting with half his vision and hearing, now that he was really putting effort into trying. It still grinded at him, how useless he'd thought he was, how reliant his Herd had -even unintentionally- kept him. Sure, plenty of princes had others hunting at their beck and call and didn't really need to do much themselves, but Kaphiri had never been that man. He had always loved pulling his weight, being among his people and using as much of his blood, sweat and tears as those of the others around him.

And now, he could again. And boy, was it needed -- their lands were safe, but had been opened to their allies experiencing terrible signs of the plague claiming their own home. Their people. Kaphiri couldn't imagine how bad it must be to abandon the place they loved, but it was more important to make sure the rest Elysium's members survived. That the poor yearlings who lost their parents found comfort here with their uncle, that they all might get to go home one day.
Kaphiri wondered if he and Amrei shouldn't be out there, doing something to help end the plague and follow the dreams being delivered.... but reminded himself that there were so many people here that were wounded, sick, or weak, that having strong providers in those like the ruby priest and his wife were critical in their recovery right now. Plus, did he dare put her in danger? The nagging thought in the back of his mind remained; without Foxglove, was there a capable healer heading the recovery of those who needed it? Kaphiri had always hated the job forced upon him, but he couldn't sit back and let Avon's allies suffer for his own discomfort. He had been gathering herbs for moons, despite his loathing of them. While he wasn't the first person to jump up and scream that he was a doctor if there was anyone else fit to handle a situation, he wouldn't ever find himself regretting his foolishness because, say, Amrei was sick, or one of the Regent's children -- or if their lands were opened for their allies in disaster. What if Fox had needed help? Now that he was gone, was there anyone to fill the spot left behind?

Sighing, he resolved to find Dimitri or Fiadh to ask about it. If they needed him to train someone more suited to the healing rank, so be it, and he could step up and help where he was needed in the meantime. He had been with Avon since its earliest days, had stuck with the fae kingdom and its matriarch through hardship and change. He wouldn't falter now, not when Fable needed him to do his part.

Kaphiri found himself sitting at the edge of Boann's Rill, staring into the yawning, dark pit that swallowed up the rivers end to the cavern beneath. The tinged, poison waters had come here from up on Fate's Respite, and he wondered how long it would be contained to this river -- how long the meadows of Avon would be safe. What happened then? Did they pack up Elysium with them and leave their home, too? What if the land never recovered? Dread pulsed in the priests chest, but he sucked in a slow, deep breath. Saeiqa had delivered him here, to this new world and this new life. Whatever storm was coming, Kaphiri would chase it alongside his wife and the newfound faith he had in the fae.
A small voice nagged in the back of his mind: death by water was Saeiqa's wrath. Did that count, here? When the water had been tampered with by forces other than the Stormhorse God? Or had Kaphiri been sent here to suffer the curse on him?

A strong, warm breeze rustled his fluffy mane and the tips of his ears, and Kaphiri felt comfort from its reassurance; closing his eyes and turning his gilded face to the sun high above.

Things would be okay.