Hushed Willows the dragonfly it ran away.

Each time she left the Crook, Harlyn had felt as though it were an epic battle of mind over matter. For weeks she had been tucked away into its depths, watching in a feverish haze as the world spun madly on around her. It had been torment to lie useless while Pippin was missing, and so too now when Larkspur and Mordecai were gone as well. Perhaps it was for these facts that the druid had pulled her through when for days, she had been convinced that her time had come. Her family had been through far too much to lose her as well, after all. They needed her. Silas needed her.

Though the fever had broken and Harlyn felt stronger than she had in days, it was on shaking legs that she emerged from the Crook into the daylight. The druid blinked at the ground through squinted eyes, unused to the sunlight that dappled the grass beneath her paws. By the time she made it to a nearby stream where she leaned to slake her thirst, she had adjusted and was able to gaze out across the territory.

Harlyn slipped to her haunches once she was satisfied and allowed her thoughts to roam. It would still take time for her to return to the physical strength she had held before the incident with the wolverine, and perhaps that would always been just beyond her reach. Her paw had mended, but still it felt heavy and stiff, as though her bones had been replaced with lead. As she pondered though, she wondered what it truly mattered to her that she was not yet at her best. Would she really allow that to stop her from leaving forthwith to find her lost family? Could she afford to leave? What of Silas, should she bring him? Would her place as a member of the Marauders be forfeit if she did take the last member of her family with her on this venture?

A wind shifted across her fur that she would have recognized as the faintest of signs of the weather turning towards Fall, but the druid barely noticed as she fell into the depths of her thoughts.