Barrow Fields this distance's never felt quite right

At her most raw and graceless at the moment, Aure couldn’t give un rahat as to who found her. Only giving the newcomer a distraught glance over a thin shoulder, she anguished wanly, “Did you lose a brother, too? Da? Bine. May we lament together.” A flourish of a feathery tail heralded the warm, earthy female before she promptly turned and plunked her chin upon her paws.

Just as she hoped this newcomer didn’t see the faint tracks of tears, Aure herself didn’t notice the marks that recalled those of the shore-king. Instead, she lay where she was, sprawled in body and disharmony in mind. “There are times when I wonder if he even wishes to be found. From the moment we were born, we never parted. If we did, it was never more than some whiles away—but not this. Not ever this.”

Usually, she was a mediator—nothing but something distant and a bit hollow to fill with sorrows through the ear. Nevermind that she was lamenting to someone who could freely strike at her prone spine; instead, she snarled to the heavens with a chilling click of fangs while the pale fur flushed to life along her spine.