The Sunspire sometimes young is idiot-adjacent.

Her question seemed to disarm him. Liffey felt some guilt for this, but if it kept her brother from his blind rage, then she would forgive herself for the unintended emotional subterfuge. Her head canted slightly as he spoke again and she considered his words. The thought that Titmouse didn't trust Rannoch hurt her just as much as if he'd blamed her, but she could not find it in her to bring up that point. Rannoch currently felt too separate from her and that separation ached like a livid wound, as though he had physically been ripped from her side. She couldn't reconcile the Rannoch that had spoken before the pack just now with the Rannoch that had found her a stargazing perch, or the one that had brought her dinner each night and held her until the morning. The one that had readily given up his place at Moonspear to journey across the Wilds to find her some place she could be happy.

"Rannoch will always care about you, and about Redshank, and I believe everyone he has ever met in his life," she insisted, "It's hard to care for so many, especially when those you care about are at odds with each other. He's trying his best - I know he is. We all make mistakes though, but we forgive each other for them. We're family. That never changes, and we never forget." The part about him moving on, she wasn't sure how to address. She didn't understand where it came from, but she had yet to consider how it must've felt for those left behind at the Vale when they had gone.