Deepwood Weald Fruit punch

The tears brimmed, then flowed. Due to the downward angle of her snout, they slipped down the bridge of her muzzle and dripped directly onto the forest floor at her feet. She sniffled, suddenly awash in guilt and regret. This was all her fault, really. She had been the one to run into Skellige's territory, catalyzing the whole series of unfortunate events since then. The tears came faster and thicker. She felt embarrassed to weep in front of a stranger but, like with most things, Larkspur simply couldn't help herself. She was weakness personified.

Starbuck offered to escort her and Spur peered upward for a split second, blinking her watery eyes, then looked back at her feet as she murmured, voice shaking, "You don't—don't have to do that." She hiccuped. "I betrayed Deirdre. She helped me and I tol—told her I'd stay, but..." Her voice failed her. Spur looked up again but couldn't bring herself to look directly at Starbuck, so instead she gazed off into the forest. Her lower lip quivered. "I couldn't stand being near him."

Rather abruptly, Spur recollected Starbuck's words during the confrontation with the overbearing Leviathan. "If you must have your piece, have it, but not now." Her quiet sobbing faded into a sudden silence and she blinked again, suddenly worried that she shouldn't trust Starbuck despite her kindship with Deirdre. "I'm not—I don't belong to him. I don't belong to anybody. I just belong with my family," the youth said quietly, sniffling.