The end had come and left them, not without an imprint on the land — and some of the lucky (unlucky?) ones. Dal had been one of those who'd left with a lingering effect from the curse. Whenever her soft tone chimed, it was cast with an echo, whispering along the winds. At first, it was spooky; she'd thought something had been wrong with her, that she was getting sick or something. But, as the days passed, she'd witnessed enough changes to her pack mates to realize that this was something left to them. She'd seen some with glowing marks and fluids. It was... Unnerving. Though there would come a time when she would forget what her voice sounded like before.

Tibbi's frantic voice pulled the herbalist from her duties of stocking her stashes, not that she excessively needed to anymore, now that Sølvi was back. Though it did help calm the spotted dove's nerves, the familiar smells and colors. It was easy on her brain. She knew their favorite spots to hide, once her own.

Dal dipped her head out of the underbrush, her perwinkle eyes widened with surprise as the rest of her body followed, running to meet her sister. Tibbi! She was smaller than her sister, having to gallop after her to catch up. Thankfully for Dal, Tibbi stopped herself, pausing in what looked like a heaving motion — but was actually trying to catch her breath. Tibbi...?

She wasted no time in pressing into her sister's shoulder, winding up beside her, Breathe, Tibbi... Breathe... She'd whisper, reassuringly, Whatever it is, it's going to be okay, we're here... It wouldn't be long until their sisters arrived, she knew; they could all rely on one another. And they could strongarm their way through anything Tibbi faced, as they had their whole life — together.