Shadewood i heard there's a chance at an afterlife

She isolated herself.

She didn't eat. Didn't drink. Didn't sleep. Only chained herself there, on a pathetically miniscule pile of slate-grey rocks, chest barely rising and falling with breaths that abhorred to flee the parting of her lips. Cold transcended into warm, and then nothing - the snow did not phase the fallen empress, not as it spluttered at her in flurries, spat its unforgiving cold into her eyes and cursed every inhale by stinging the soft flesh inside her mouth, not even as it piled atop her back in a row of dusty white and froze stiff her spine.

Gwen's teeth made quick work of her paws, gnawing away at the delicate fur to reveal ripped skin, bloodied pads - she chewed through the pain, letting crimson dribble from her claws and spatter onto the frozen earth in a signpost of her distress. If nobody else, the world's spirit would know of her sorrow. The ivoria lay there 'til dawn became dusk, let her head lay limp through the pass of the night, and still ceased to move. She feared that if she stirred, she'd disturb the fragility of what she'd tried to build, watch it crumble beneath her, and then fall alongside it; she cared not if she fell, but she couldn't allow him to. 

But what had she done? The very thing she'd done all in her power to avoid--

If nobody else would punish her, then she would.

The sunshine returned swiftly to the Shadewood. Chased back to her home by the bitter ocean wind that threw salted spray at her and threatened to knock her over at some points -- if she were much taller she supposed she would've been sent sprawling into the sand. But she was home now.
With gifts.

In her mouth, she clutched a number of items for the Family. By the borders, she'd made a cache for the items to hand out when she decided to hunt for the recipients. She first detected Gwen -- but hints of worry accompanied the finding. A few spots of blood sent the youth searching through the forest, doing her best at tracking with the smelly present clutched in her maw; no she would never forget the gift.
Soon, well as soon as she could, she located the pale pelted Emperor. And Mother figure -- seeings as  Cry acted as her father figure. 

The woman seemed sad, lonely. Lost. Phex whined softly, approaching slowly. The woman was biting herself; was she in pain and trying to make it stop? The youth dropped her gift by the head of Gwen, pushing the crab shell, legs still intact and limp, towards her. 
Next, the youth nuzzled the woman's face, pushing her away from her paws in silent demand of let me see. 
The girl didn't understand greif, didn't understand why the woman would hurt herself. All she knew was it shouldn't happen.

Softly, with the care a mother would have,  the girl licked Gwen's wounds, not expecting to be pushed away -- because she's the light of the fucking world like come on --  hoping to ease the pain and to see if anything more was amiss.

Boundless orbs of blue watched the girl with a flicker of warmth (a daughter not by blood, but by heart), a sad yet appreciative wag of her tail being the only greeting that Gwen found she could provide - she prayed she would be forgiven for her demeanor in the future.

The empress lacked the energy to hide her paws, to tuck them under her breast to mask what she'd done to herself, so Phex was allowed to sweep her tongue across the rough wounds; so innocent was her little soul, it was impossible to snap at her in defense. Gwen reached her ivory muzzle forward and placed a tender thank you lick at the base of her forehead, gaze flickering to the gift.

What did she do to deserve the comforting?

The girl finished the grooming of the woman's paws, starting to press her nose over her body, poking through her thick coat, to see if there was indeed anything else amiss. She found nothing, yet the air was held heavy with sadness. Phex gave the woman a questioning look before pushing the crab shell towards her again and grinned, "I brought everyone gifts back, this is a crab in case you didn't know." 

Her ears flopped then perked up again, waiting to see if she got a spoken answer. She moved to lay before the woman, no matter the outcome and plopped herself down. She sighed heavily, trying to not let the sadness that the woman felt hinder her own feelings. The youth was happy by nature and saw it fit to only make those who are unhappy happy. She decided to seek Laroche next. She'd missed him on her trip and hoped that he'd got his face fixed up; otherwise she'd be having stern words with him.