Northstar Vale there's a road to the righteous, that doesn't lead through hell

Never before had she been bound in such anticipation - worried the Empress (a regal, beautiful, and unfettered woman whom somehow managed to make her feel both small and tall as evergreens) might pity her, frightened of being cast from the threshold of this sanctuary for fear of Aliroth, nauseously in wait of the Vale's queen to react, respond. 

Reiko's wisped grief curled around her cracked heart, tugging on its its strings. Some dam deep within burst, a swell of pain flooding through her body - throbbing beneath her chestbone as if the organ within was truly broken. 

A trembling breath was all that bespoke of this silent agony as the healer fought down this odd embodiment of a sob. Her eyes flickered upwards once more, non-aggressively, as the Izuka stepped forward. 

The waif's features had been opened like the dog-eared pages of a well worn tome, a wintery visage of conflicting emotions: hope, vulnerability, disbelief, relief, brought about by the arctic scout's kindness and acceptance. 

"T'ank you, mi'lady," the vagabond managed, voice fracturing with the welcomed feeling of freedom, unbound gratitude. The midwife doubted very much she would ever feel a desire to leave; not after searching for a pack, safety, for so long. Not now, when the euphoria of home was still washing over her - when her loyalty had been so concretely sealed to the Empire, to Reiko. 

"T'ey name me, Awenfen," the ivory hart introduced herself softly, falling into step with the lady - gathering the gifted herbs with intentions of storing them. 

Eagerly, timidly, the new pledge trailed after the Empire's founder - soul shining through seelie eyes with rebirth.