Bearclaw Valley my god, my god, why have you forsaken me?

Closer the pair crawled, Poet slow and hazy in movement until she's able to reach out and gingerly press her nose against Venninne's shoulder, seeking some physical assurance that they're both really here, that this isn't a dream or vision. 

But the metal bird! Surely that was a vision, some shared prophecy for both of them, though she cannot make heads or tails of what it could be. Desperately she wishes Phocion were near. She no longer has a connection to the gods, but he might, he might. 

Phocion does not materialize despite her thoughts. Instead she croaks, "Venninne," realising only after that she still doesn't know if that's her name or just one Sif granted her. She breathes through her teeth. "Can you stand..?" She tries, pulling back slightly to grant the woman the space to rise if she's able. They need to get back into the safety of the Valley at the least... call for Xan, call for Blondine. Pray the bird does not return more bloodthirsty.