She’s pretty damn sure the Basin is just going to reek of trees if the Edglings don’t stop coming here. Maybe they should just keep one of them hostage for a while to make a point. Not that she thinks Tia would be game for that idea, though she can see Rikyn at least entertaining the idea. It’s a terrible idea for keeping up relations and all that, but still, the idea amuses her. And it certainly helps make her less bitter as she makes her way to the entrance of the Basin yet again to greet yet another visitor. To be fair, she does not yet know for sure this mare is from the Edge, because so far, all she knows is Raven found something. She doesn’t even know it’s a someone, yet. But she will soon enough, so the thoughts are warranted.

Not that she cares about warranted. She just likes to amuse herself.

She’s actually a horse today, not a raven, and she makes her way over to the newest visitor on foot. But the mare hadn’t been hard to spot, circling around in the sky like a damn fool because no one told her the dirty little secret here. Can’t blame her, but still, the thoughts roll around in Weaver’s head, because her head has never been full of kind thoughts. At least sometimes her words are less terrible than the running inner monologue.

There are some snotty remarks on her lips as she approaches, but they all die when the little gold mare comes into view. She’s seen the mare around Helovia, recently when that stupid fire cheetah tried to burn the place down. Weaver’s still got some lovely burn patches from that, though the cool glowy magic had faded away. But she hadn’t been paying much attention in those particular gatherings, because you know, fire cheetah, shapeshifting fake baby otter, etc. But now, she’s actually looking.

There are a few things different. She’s not literally gold, and the black tips on the wings are different. But Weaver is also different; the seven horns on her head a new addition, though her wings and the mark of death on her chest are familiar. Weaver just stares for a moment, openly. Raven comes to rest on her back, looking at the visitor, a question running through their bond that he doesn’t have the words for yet. But she’s pretty sure he’s thinking exactly what she’s thinking (even though he can’t be, really, he’s new Raven after all).

“You…” she starts, stopping again, disbelief coloring the one word. “No. Definitely no.” This is something of a mutter, and she shakes her head, like she’s clearing away the nonsense and just starting over. When she speaks again, it could be because she is completely convinced this is in fact exactly who she thinks it is, or it could just be the way she greets most of the strangers who come to the Basin. “What do you want?”

In truth, she just needs to hear the other mare speak. Because then she will know, beyond a shadow of a doubt.