Bearclaw Valley mesmeric revelation

His friend was back, but Ashlar was hesitant to approach at first.  She was sick.  Baba would have known what to do but the silver-gilded youth was not his father.  He had never been able to learn the secrets of plants and of healing, too distracted by butterflies and the songs on the wind.

Butterflies wouldn't heal her.  Songs could heal some ills, but not the ones she bore. Still, it was more than nothing, and after a lot of hesitating Ashlar slunk towards the place where Avicus rested.

When he reached it he paused to listen, then gave a low yip of cautious and quiet greeting.  He didn't know if she was awake, wanted company, or anything.  He didn't know if she counted him friend, but that didn't change his own definition.