Silvertip Mountain antipathy

As he moved from her, Byll spun so that she would face his hindquarters and swatted at his plume. It was her turn to be obnoxious, but when he spoke, her eyes darkened. "No," she responded. Clarice had left them at His will, and they understood that. Still, there was something to be considered there. And she corrects herself, "If He wills it." But only then. And she could feel something pulling at her mind, something that told her that he never would. Clarice was with Sos, forever. They were his children, but She was His vessel.

Her eyes had never left him, and she hums. There were few times Byll could ever be called content. She was almost always pacing or paranoid. The beings within truly did like this place, and it was clear. Byll slid alongside Buffalo, moving her narrow muzzle to push against him roughly so that she could breathe him in. "Do you want Her to?" she asks once she is parallel to him, ears perked in anticipation, knowing his words, regardless of what they were, were ones with much weight to them.