Gyrfalcon's Keep fool me once, strike one. fool me twice, strike three.

Oooh!

There were some times that Harley missed Raiden — missed her dearly. Life had never been the same after she had left, in ways that Harley hadn’t even recognized or noticed at the time, until it was too late and those things she had oh-so-loved in the moment had so unceremoniously… vanished. Life had never been same and Harley had never been the same. Where she was once complacent [yet bursting at the seams], she was now inquisitive and questioning. If Raiden could leave then… why couldn’t she? 

It wasn’t often that Harley pondered the subtleties of life, but here she was, sitting on the top of a balding mountain and doing just that — then, her train of thought, which the hoyden could feel spiraling into a sense of frustration, was interrupted by a sputtering cough. It did not sound like a noise a healthy creature would make, so Harley’s bulldozer of a mind quickly shifted foci. It did not take long to find the sick, feeble thing. “Gosh,” she stated incredulously, not immediately understanding the nature of the situation. She sniffed at the air, drawing up her lip at the girl’s feverish miasma. “What happened to yah?”