Silvertip Mountain calling

Tonravik was infinitely aware of the time she had been gone. Her memory was not so brilliant as to remind her that she had informed none of her absence. There was a thought—a wisp of it—but her intelligence, limited as it was, whisked it away before she could make something tangible out of it. She was not an independent anymore. There was more to her life than just Tonravik. Before it was something she could not grasp, not understand—

But as she sang out into the crisp morning air for Aguta, it was clear there was some profound change that had come with her return.

Understanding, knowing. It had not been inherent. Or, perhaps it had been. Like her dominance, and her will to lead, perhaps it had been pushed away. She understood only now how irresponsible she had been to simply go without a word. Thoughtless. She could not be thoughtless. She wasn't any longer. It was why she called. Tonravik would make no more mistakes—she could not afford to, did not desire to. Still, her leaving had been for a reason. And she owed Aguta this.