Phoenix Maplewood there's a voice that pulls me stumbling through a symphony

at his request, the huntress nods, and is either made curious or somber by his statement, depending on how much lavender reveals in that other thread that isn't quite finished yet. "I will," she promises, before going on for another hug. she holds her brother close for a long moment, revelling in the gladness of knowing he's close, and healthy, and grown. 

when he withdraws, she smiles, hoping this isn't the last she'll see of him for a while. "good luck — try not to fall off any mountains," she offers, glad for him. with that, she bumps her shoulder against his in farewell, content to watch him off before returning her attention to the antler, intent in bringing it back with her.