Northstar Vale Psémata

She stirred at the gentle noise of her self-assigned guardian. Withdrawing from the haze of pain and restless dreams, she studied the familiar wall of the healing den now, breathing out softly. Mobility was becoming more important in her healing process—and so she pushed herself up, teeth gritting as she stood, pausing a moment to allow her side to adjust.

The pain was much less—a scar would always mar her—a reminder of what she had done and what had nearly happened—and with quiet fortitude, she slowly moved forward, creeping out of the den and allowing her eyes to fall upon young Antigone, a small smile pulling at her otherwise tired features. “Hey, you,” she murmured, slowly settling herself to a seat near him.