Skoll waits as Eilidh approaches the birds before he can ask how to understand them. Something inside clicks into place as she tears the fur from her own legs. It makes Skoll feel strange. As if something deep inside his memory had begun to resurface.

Skoll doesn't expect to feel dread to be the feeling welling up inside - he stamps the flame down as soon as it climbs up his throat.

Why would Eilidh offer them her own fur when she already looks torn open? Couldn't she have just asked Skoll to share some of his? He would have offered it to her.

He almost brings it up, but doesn't want to scare the birds away. Eilidh had already shared her fur with them, Skoll telling her that now would mean nothing. If there is a next time, and Eilidh is not better, Skoll will offer his fur instead.

He isn't sure what to do as the birds stand and sing without moving. Should he offer his fur too anyway? Eilidh seems more in-tune with these kinds of things.

"Do I need to do anything?" He whispers to her, hopeful to not chase the birds away.