Neverwinter Forest Water from your broken iris fell toward the floor

@Kynareth Deagon @Mal but welcome to others too. please allow malia to post first <3
forward dated to 2/18. if that doesn't work for everyone, let me know and we can figure something else out
set for early evening 9F, clear

The journey to her old forest had not been easy. She was edgy and anxious the entire time. Half way to their destination, she had woken with a nausea like none she had ever felt; it left a constant burning in the back of her throat and never seemed to resolve. She hadn't even been able to eat very much of whatever they had managed to catch. She hadn't slept very well because when she closed her eyes, she couldn't stop wondering how things would go. For hours, she would lay awake as her mind came up with scenario after scenario—all the worst possible outcomes had drifted through her mind over and over. She didn't know how to shut it off. She was worried about what Mal would say and how angry he would be. She had played out what she would say in her head multiple times a day, sometimes until the words lost all meaning. The worry, lack of sleep, and never-ending nausea had made her quiet and moody. She tried not to take it out on Ky, but had snapped at him a couple times over something stupid and then immediately apologized. She was worried about him too—she knew this was more dangerous for him than anyone else, and she worried she might not be able to protect him. She would try her hardest to keep things civil, though.

From the time they had woken this morning and all the way here, she hadn't said much at all. Her stomach was bothering her even more today, and her chest was tight with nerves and dread. She wished things were different. She wished they could all just figure out a way to coexist and things with her and Mal could be like they were. But she wasn't stupid; she knew that was impossible. This would likely be the last time she ever saw Mal, and that broke her heart most of all. He had been her family when she felt she had no one who understood her. She had flourished and led beside him. But she was different now—stronger. Too much had happened for her to be the Simmik she used to be; that version of herself was dead.

As they drew close to the border, she walked so close to Ky that their sides touched as they moved. She stopped just outside the territory and offered a gentle, reassuring nip to her mate's jaw. Then she drew in a deep breath, lifted her muzzle up, and called for her friend.