Lena. Sohalia. The names may well be gibberish to the girl, though her hungry mind stores them away, tucking them neatly into the categorical stacks, the shelves which hold her worldly knowledge. There is a brief shift of the light behind her black eyes, a flicker of something resembling recognition, but clouds of remorse quickly return to their place, and the girl is caught again in the maze of her own thoughts, her fears and denials as to what Kali's visit means.

Is her mother truly dead? Her uncles? Her aunt? What of her cousins, of Semira and Amaris and the others she loves?

But Kali is here, and perhaps even well. Somehow through her tears and snot, the girl knows that Rishima's death would lead to the gryphon falling as well, or at least more hurt, more devastated than the white feline's eyes could ever hide. She thinks about this as the adults speak, mind slow and fuzzy with simple shock, gears turning slowly to form a conclusion, a thought. No, she decides, her mother must not be dead, merely lost, or perhaps found, safe somewhere on the other side of the night. Otherwise Kali would be sick. Otherwise the flower would be dead. Otherwise...

Otherwise, what delicately maintained stability she still clung to would shatter into a million pieces, and she would be forced to watch as her world came crumbling down.

With the tenacity of a wolfhound she clings to this newfound reassurance, this bright beacon of hope in a miserable, dark, world, and feels her stupor slowly ebb. Tears still threaten to soak her skin, but no longer has she lost control, a broken puppet in the ash and dust. Black eyes blink and the girl shifts, a subtle movement too loud in the dark; she moves slightly, rolls to rest on her knees, moon-slashed face downturned and determined. Around her they speak of moving ans lifting, of names and aid, and though she knows it will ache, will sting with the weight of a thousand lashes, the girl lifts her leg and pushes up, rising to stand between the mares.

Except it does not hurt, does not sting, for Lena's magic has worked its wonders, soothing the girl through her pain and woe. Surprised, she stumbles, head light from exhaustion- "Oh," she gasps, struggling to resist the pull of the ground, falling toward Sohalia as Kali laughs relief, an odd excuse for a grin plastered upon her avian face.

Tandavi