Blackfeather Woods Test my reality, check if there's a weak spot

The ghostly coloration of their Listener was hard not to spot in the darkness of the woods, and Nyx turned to her even before the squirrel was asked for. Speckled brows raised with both a form of empathy and something she would describe as longing. She herself could not wait to bear a new generation for their woods, yet Potema seemed... exhausted and sad. She should be overjoyed, should she not? Nyx pressed the squirrel on the ground, nosing it towards the woman with a muffled; Of course. It was glad to see her efforts not go to waste too.

Her brows knitted together when she raised her head again, arranging the stars on her forehead again. Usually, she'd never ask this kind of question to a fellow member, but she could not help a soft, excusable; How are you fairing? to sspill from her lips.