There was no slipping anything past his sisters, it seemed. Whether he appreciated their observational natures was up for debate at times.

Frustrated, he pushed himself back to his feet, trembling be damned, and shot Eilidh a gentle look as she began rubbing moss on him. There is no sickness, Eilidh, he cooed softly.

The fact that she was here with them made him exceptionally proud. Her hesitance to face the world had always broken his heart, so her willingness to come this far was a huge step.

It will be beautiful in the spring, he added quietly.

If the sun ever returned.

The never-ending winter was all-consuming. He missed the heat of the sun on his fur, the colors the world once held… he had known it so briefly, before his injury. A time when things had been so much simpler.

His gaze shifted from his sisters, settling on one of the many fissures that split the earth, its odd humming and blue glow sending a shiver down his spine.

Like that thing? We should stay away from it. It makes me feel sick. Like the spirits are suffering.

Leaning into Eilidh, he gave her a gentle lick to the cheek.