Hideaway Strath you were never meant to be a tragedy

She was consumed by the void before her for a moment, the wolf at her side forgotten as her blank gaze peered into the pitch like she was staring into the belly of the beast. As if at any moment the cave would swallow her up like a ravenous daemon.

Aerin startled slightly as the behemoth of snowfall beside her stepped forward, brought back from the echo of horror in her memories. She watched, a little dazed as the panic creeping over her began to dispel slowly, as Vein chose a patch of snow on the ground and stretched himself out -- seemingly abandoning his quest for the hot springs, at least for now. There was an invitation in his sunbeam gaze, beckoning her silently closer. A strange, fluttery feeling seized up in her heart but the porcelain doe crept forward shyly anyways, accepting the offer of companionship and warmth. The halfling sat and settled against his broad shoulder comfortably, haunch pressed against his elbow and her own shoulder nestled near the peaks of his shoulder blades. Her argent gaze slid over the rusted streaks painted on his features with new curiosity as she examined them from this angle.

She was soon lost in his tale, though this one was not a story that filled her with awe or mystification but rather inspired empathy and a touch of grief for the man's loss. When the pallid brute fell silent, the sharp tang of his agitation perfuming the air as it escaped his pores, to rasp at his leg in anxiety -- the medic was drawn forward with only a touch of hesitance. Uncertain if it would bother him, the white taper of her thin muzzle reached out and began to work gently at the snarls in his thick ruff -- grooming him soothingly as she had been taught to do for stressed wolves, or those in shock. In the span of a few minutes, he would eventually pick up his story again but Aerin continued to untangle his coat and clean the debris of the Strath from the coarse strands, given that he had no objection, of course. 

After he'd finished, Vein lowered himself to lay flat along the ground -- seeming a little drained or dejected. Aerin shifted, allowing him the room to move before settling her hips alongside his ribcage. Uncertain of how to help, she did her best to comfort him -- turning and laying her small head in the middle of his broad back and resting like that for a minute or two as if the empath could somehow absorb the negativity that sapped his strength and offer him her own warmth in return. 

"I am sorry ye 'ave lost so many," she murmured, knowing it was inadequate but attempting to offer what she could to the shaman.

I think you might've actually mentioned his father's skull in your first post, when he gave her the flower, but I wrote this on the assumption that he had maybe left it behind when they went looking for the caves and that Aerin had maybe left the flowers he gave her behind with his skulls? I totally forgot about the flowers and his skulls too lol. just lmk if I need to edit anything!