Lost Creek Hollow forget about me and all of my dreams.

The minutes slipped away into nothing, watching Ilya's strength wane as they went.  When they'd started, Harlyn's attention had been raptly glued on her packmate.  But now, even as the girl deteriorated, the alpha's gaze had drifted and her attention seemed now to be more on their location.  Whether Ilya would notice her "disinterest", Harlyn didn't wonder.  She knew her friend would be too concerned with her own failing physical state.  There were other things to focus on now, though that was only a small part of why the druid paid less attention to her charge.  Mostly, she didn't want to see what she had done out of fear she would be unable to keep going.

Silas. Pip. Lark.

Harlyn slowed to a stop and stared out at the wintery landscape.  The snow was beginning to melt and here and there, tiny shoots of greenery were peeking through up at the sun.  It failed to bring a smile to the druid's face, which was solemn and grave as she scanned the horizon and tested the scents that had settled over the area.

She turned only when she heard her packmate collapse into the snow, and immediately the alpha felt her heart splinter.  Tears pricked her eyes and she let out a small gasp.  For a moment - one brief moment of weakness - she wanted to call this off for madness.  The regret and guilt surged through her veins like chunks of ice breaking up along the river.  Harlyn took a step towards Ilya, but in doing so, the moment passed.  Ilya was gone already, and she had to think about the rest of her family.  Harlyn shut her eyes tight and breathed in deeply to steady herself.  She was a healer and had seen many unpleasant truths in her life.  She had the strength and will to do this.  She must.

Silas. Pip. Lark.

The woman opened her eyes again to reveal fire.  Harlyn and her loving heart, her caring soul, faded to the background.  The druid stood before Ilya, gazing solemnly upon her gift to the gods.