Whitebark Stream Guess I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all.

Shy, diminutive and uncertain—they were easy words to describe the silver sparrow as she loped gently along the length of the stream, her bright eyes inquisitively tracing the foliage and plants that were coming to life with the onset of spring.

She hadn’t seen much of @Aphrodite, and she noticed the woman’s scent had begun to fade from the lands. It was discerning, but Meadow, new to the ways of Whitebark Stream, wanted to simply hope for the best—that the kind woman was seeking out herbal supplies.

Which was what the lissome she-wolf was doing now. The sun above warmed her, though a certain coolness remained within the fresh spring air. Daylight cast upon her, alighting the copper mask of her face even mores as amber eyes kept careful watch as she continued her slow walk.

She had found little, thus far, but when the bright yellow patch of dandelions caught her eye, she gave a small smile, loping closer to inspect the weeds. Only when she began to paw at them, deciding she would dig some up for a herbal cache, did she glance up, catching the sight of an approaching Artyom—his thick, white fur a beacon.