The Sentinels how terrible it is, to love something that death can touch

Deirdre was gentle, soft - she was a light to many in a time of great darkness. In her, Rowan felt immense strength; she felt promise - possibilities. There was no future that Rowan saw where the woman was not growing into her destiny. Rowan smiled as the child nuzzled against her, even though she would be a child for only a brief time more. She was quick to apologize and Rowan kissed her brow, shaking her head. "You have nothing to apologize for, my dear, we have all been affected. Keeping busy is good." She said with quietly. 

And she had been busy too, though in utterly different ways. 

"Healing is a noble art - many in our family are healers." She said encouragingly. "And I Know in time you will be a master of your art." Rowan hoped to see that, too, but the images of the future were not welcoming to her. She gave a soft sigh, for a moment leaning against her; being comfortable in their mingled fur. "Deirdre, I have....I have much to talk about with you. I do not want to upset you though, and what I have to say may do just that."