Sacre always seemed to end up in the Deep Forest when he was moping. Perhaps it was because it always felt like the forest was weeping in some way, a past that wasn't quite forgotten, remembered in scratched bark and red waters, as if he shared the woodland's sorrow and they, silently and painfully, lamented together. A comforting feeling, but a silly notion, however it soothed his aching heart. Often he came when he was thinking too much of Roux, but this time the fox-boy came because his thoughts were troubled by one grey mare, her lifeless eyes and him, the healer, that couldn't save her life. What was the point of his silly title if he couldn't even save a child's mother? He knew that pain, he knew it so well, the sudden removal of a sturdy pillar in his young life—destroyed and mangled on the floor. Was this how his father had felt when, not even with all his years of healing experience, he couldn't save Kou? He remembered Oizy's face like a mirror image of his own... "I'm a healer", he had said "I can help"... lies. Even if he thought he could've helped, at the time, all they had been were lies. He should return to the Worlds Edge and give up his title to someone who was more capable and stronger than he is. Even now he doesn't try to dedicate himself to his chosen discipline, despairing over something that cannot be changed instead of improving himself and becoming a better Doctor.  

He meandered through the woodland, not really caring for direction, his anger at himself was growing by the minute and his two fox friends had already disappeared, hunting the excuse, but really they didn't want to be around him right now. They watched him from afar instead, shooting worried glances his way, hoping he would snap out of it at any moment. He was being immature, he knew it too, it made him more annoyed and an innocent branch had to be snapped under his cloven hoof before finally he looked up from his brooding. Then—there she was. A picture of her mother, a pale outline of delicate beauty all alone in the dark woods, where she stood out like a beacon of light to banish his weeping thoughts for a moment. Sacre had never had a chance to get to know his pretty little sister, brotherly instincts driving him forwards towards her, not wanting her to be alone in this terribly miserable forest. 

"Ráeru" he sang her name, casting his bitterness aside to greet his sister, who seemed to be carrying different plants in her mane. "Hunting down herbs?" he asked, nodding to the tied bundles, feeling a prideful surge that she too had chosen to be a healer. He often wished he had asked their father to tell him of the most useful herbs to find, although, he was fairly certain that d'Artagnan had only ever concerned himself with those plants that could make a horse writhe in pain. 

Pausing, he thought about all the things he wanted to ask Ráeru, about what had happened to her, had she been living well... He went to walk by her side, trying to brush his shoulder with hers, she didn't much look like a little sister, she was his height after all and older now. "How have you been?" he asked, figuring it was the best place to start.