Everything had been perfect and easy with his wing draped over her, shielding her from nothing and everything all at once. It didn't matter that they'd only just met or that she knew so little of him (and he so little of her). The fact is, she felt better in his embrace. Somehow, tucked safely against him, the girl could forget the persistent pounding in her skull. She could forget the random, occasional bit of blood trickling from her ears. Everything had been wonderful, until her mother and Evangeline showed up.

The tension in the air is palpable and though her initial reaction is one of anxiety and frantic explanations, her emotions take a rather quick turn towards anger. The girl isn't angry with her mother, she couldn't be. Despite the displeasure she knew bubbled just beneath her mother's stoic surface, the mare remained polite - despite the hardened edge to her words. Alysanne, at least, had the right to be upset. Yet as the tension pulses and grows around the small gathering, the pain in her head is brought back to the forefront of her focus. Once more everything seems too bright and their voices too loud. Her nostrils flare and for a second she squeezes her eyes shut. The girl fights the desire to shift and bury her head beneath Rift's wing, knowing that would only escalate the problem. But as her eyes open once more, she can feel the prickling heat of moisture welling in her eyelids. They threaten to spill past her long lashes, overflowing and trickling down her cheeks but with a few deep breaths she holds them back.

She remains quiet for a moment, allowing everyone else to speak their piece. She could feel the heat of her mother and Evangeline's stares. It isn't until Evangeline speaks again that she ceases to simply accept her fate. The orange mare's words are enough to light a fire behind the girl's eyes extending to a seething anger smoldering in her gut. Naerys works hard to remain stoic, despite the slight darkening of her teal orbs as she pins the orange mare with a quietly burning stare. "Had I been sick or injured before I left I wouldn't have gone anywhere." Her voice remains respectful despite the newfound firmness. And she wouldn't have. She may be young but she isn't so lacking in intelligence that she'd leave when her own mother had healing magic. She had been perfectly healthy when she left but she also hadn't gone straight to the threshold. No, she left to explore further south in Helovia, mapping her home country from the air until she came across a strangely large gathering that, upon closer inspection, the girl quickly discovered was a battle of sorts. Mauja had been there, as had Erthe and many others but the problems didn't start until after the massive, foreign creature was destroyed.

That was when the pain started. It had been awful, debilitating in its own right, and it threw her off course when she tried to return home.

But would they even believe her if she told them? What was the point in trying when so many seemed to operate with the theory that you were guilty until proven innocent? Children are innately innocent creatures - for good and for ill. "Do not judge so harshly of what you do not fully understand." but that is all she's willing to divulge. None of them knew the whole story and unless they cease their negative and pessimistic behavior, she's not about to explain it further. With a final pointed look at the orange mare, her gaze shifts to her mother briefly before returning to Rift. "The flowers always grow. They aren't tied to my emotions, they just... they're tied to me, the connection of my hooves with the ground." she explains, her voice softer again, more warm and friendly. "I'm alright now, Rift. It's okay. Thank you for walking me home, I promise I'll come visit you." she adds sweetly and with a soft smile - despite the throbbing in her skull. She shifts forward enough to touch the tip of her muzzle to his cheek. She lingers for a moment, her breath a warm yet soft caress, before she slips out from beneath his wing and moves to her mother. The girl allows one last glance over her shoulder, one last smile to the brotherly stallion. Then, deliberately ignoring Evangeline, the girl refocuses on her mother. "It's just my head..." she almost murmurs and with a soft sigh the girl lowers her head and leans forward, attempting to press her face into her mother's chest. Meanwhile, Petyr hops down the girl's back to sit upon her rump, his pale eyes gazing sadly at the stallion - the green bird didn't want him to leave. He'd grown fond of him, just as Naerys had.