Moonspear from a black widow's reckoning, your fortuitous spine

A quiet whuff emerged from the darkness in reply, and Lyra's tail waved in relief as she backed up a few paces, eager for her nephew to emerge. It took a few moments, but finally he did so, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light. As he touched his nose to her chin, the medic gently licked the top of his muzzle with a rumble of affection.

"Good morning," she said softly. His mumbled words had become somewhat of a common occurrence; where before Osiris would greet each day with bubbly enthusiasm, he now was more subdued and quiet. Lyra hoped it was only a low mood caused by his needing to be confined to the den. Gesturing for him to walk with her if he could, she asked with concern, "are you feeling any better?"