Northstar Vale so the hollow's low on grapefruits.

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Titmouse was dealing with things as best he could, but nothing could stop the rise of his PTSD since the bear event. He slept for long hours. Even though they had all gone through so much to reach the vale, Titmouse was often asleep among the trees or sequestered somewhere by the lotus spring; he did his best to stay alert when he was awake, but his method of coping seemed to be sleep - pure and simple sleep. This meant he was awake at odd hours too, leaving him to his thoughts, his doubts, his fears, and with nobody to comfort him except the evening patrols. Or in this case, his cousin.

He spotted her while trying to find a place to relieve himself. Titmouse had been woken from his sleep by a strange bird screaming from deep among the forests of the vale, and while it was a bright and shining day Titty did not look like he fit among the idyllic scene. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, bright, and cloudless, and then here he was - a silver blob with dark circles under his eyes, glaring at the trees.

Liffey bounded by him along the ridge. Maybe he was seeking comfort, or maybe he just missed having someone around because of how infrequent everything had become - but he followed after her, his small-but-long body showcasing some athletic prowess that could be further distilled over time. Each time Liffey stopped, so did Titmouse. He loitered out of reach and thought he was being stealthy, only to follow after her some more when she'd take off again. By the fourth ridge he was huffing and puffing, tail low and posture slack, having worn himself out during the pointless little game he'd started playing.

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