Whitebark Stream put your ring back on honey-tits, you haven't had enough porridge this morning (mtr.)

Every part of her froze at that voice, the question forgotten in the wake of memories of late autumn and of sanctuary with Easthollow and — apărător?! The fur along what was seen of her broke out in shivers of joy, and had she been unearthed, she would've twirled right into her once-guardian's embrace.

As it was though, Aure was still quite intimate with the earth, so she had to compensate for a frenzied stamping of her hindpaws and her tail shivering with heartiness; a low, embarassed-but-thrilled whine arced up to him from beneath the snows. Well, she couldn't actually reply; not in a way that he'd hear her. But her eyes began to prick with tears at his teasing, because Wintersbane was the second predicament today... but not entirely unwelcome, truth be told.

It'd been so long since she'd seen him, heard him, and there was an honest ache in her soul at how he'd guided her from the tail-end of the Sunspires all the way to its crown. Shameful of her as it was, the ache grew from her soul and into her body; and if she hadn't been so flustered of her position before... well, now that he'd arrived and it was he who found her like this... The skayona pressed her eyes closed, hard, against the indolent mirth that'd been his laugh; the husk of it.

He was so cruel.

But then, as with everything, she took his inquiry to heart; her tail was soon feathering beseechingly at her hocks, and she tried to lower her boney bum on them to further plead for his help; "Yes, please. Please please please, please. Please help me, please! Please?" Aure would nip him in the nose for those little epithets later, but for now, she'd condescend to more begging if only to see the sunlight and breathe once again. She would really cry if she didn't.