Northstar Vale Yioí

Tamar placed some form of blame on Akashingo—and yet, did not give her exactly what it was she saw as a change in Reyson, despite the healer having asked. Tamar had also skirted Meadow’s words to speak plainly—that she and Arsenio seemed to dislike the man.

Instead, the Morphe’s words lingered in her mind: and no soul is welcome here if i do not care for them. And yet she spoke this, mere moments after banishing him from the pack for three days as a form of punishment.

She stiffened. Her eyes sweeping over the woman. There was little point to continuing this—Meadow would not linger to upset the Epoch matriarch further—not when she was pregnant and already worried for her son.

“Get some rest, Tamar,” she offered, her own voice feeling robotic. Turning, she began to make the trek back to the healing den—though her eyes would stray to the direction of the borders, her features knitted in quiet contemplation and sadness.