From his spot pressed up against the stallion's cannon, Talbot could feel eyes upon him. With a sudden start his golden gaze snapped to their surroundings, scanning intently for any signs of company. Young as he was, Talbot knew well that the Basin presented no danger to those who called it home, but he couldn't help but be on Edge with his master's current condition. He could feel the stallion tense beside him, and pausing, the hound offered a reassuring lick to his knee before turning his gaze back to the expanse of white and thick of trees.

Not a moment later, the pair had their eyes on the spying culprit, watching as she approached with gentle steps. The way she carried herself suggested to Talbot that she wasn't a threat in the least; in fact, he swore that she looked familiar, but the pup wasn't aware of the redmane's name or her place within the herd. His innocent musings were zapped away in an instant, however, when a wave of absolute terror washed through him.

But of course, it belonged to Crowley, not him.

With a sharp, popping snort, the Weaver danced to the side, his eyes ever wary of the mare's form and her proximity to his position. Of course Crowley was completely aware of just who this Thief was who had joined him this night, but overwhelmed with a tsunami of fear, any sense of reasoning as to the Thief's sudden appearance was washed away. She had to have come for a reason. If one examined him with scrutiny beneath the moonlight, they would see the quivering of his legs, prepared to whirl him away and flee from the danger that this mare must have presented. Obviously she had come to punish him in some way, shape or form... After all, he had been gone for several days, so it was only right that the Basin would put an end to him.

Right?

"W-What do you want?" He stammered, his accented tone laced with the very fibers of fear, "I swear, I... I didn't mean to..." Taking a few more steps away from the mare so that he was at a more comfortable distance from her, the Weaver produced another sharp snort, the whites of his eyes flashing in the pale moonlight from above. "Sh-She sent you, didn't she? Psyche... She told you to come and kill me. I know she d-did."

Standing between the Weaver and the Thief, Talbot found himself uncertain of what to do. This was turning out to be a horrible predicament; he could only hope that this would end quickly, and that the entirety of the Basin wouldn't find his sudden change bizzare and cast him away. Turning his gaze to look at Faelene, Talbot took a single step towards her and gave a soft whine, the tip of his tail wagging gently behind him. Only after he knew he'd gotten her attention did he gaze towards the moon, then to Crowley, back and forth once more, and then finally back to the mare. He couldn't speak to the redmaned lady, and this was all that he knew to do that might work.

As Crowley kept his eyes glued to the dark form of the Thief, he was very much aware of every little movement she made from the flattening of her ears to the obvious annoyance spread across her face. It was all very terrifying for the Weaver to witness; was she going to attack him? Although she had denied his assumptions of her coming to cleanse the Basin of him, the way she looked upon him spoke leagues more than anything else. Surely she must be lying to him!

But merely seconds later, her tone seemed to change, almost pleading for one reason or another. What had he done..? What had he done? He'd done nothing more than wander away for a few days, like he'd done several times in the past, but had he taken too long this time? Neglected his duties or missed something important? He'd dared not even gaze upon a hornless in his absence; he'd remained loyal to the Plague and had only sought out the lady of the night, the Goddess herself, but Crowley was unable to bring himself to actually speak of his reasons behind leaving.

Perhaps to anyone else, none of this would make sense, but the whirlwind of thoughts was currently all that was on the Weaver's mind. That, and an intense, unforgiving sense of fear that gripped at his very heart. But for one young pup of Hell, he could feel every tendril of fright that clung to his bondmate.

Peering up at the redmaned mare, Talbot was thankful that she had caught on so quickly to his clues and behind him, his tail waggled just a bit more. At the mare's question, he mimicked what he had seen Crowley do on several occasions and nodded his head. In a sense, the Moon had done this, but in the form of a violet mare rather than a giant glowing orb in the sky. "Return when it is over," Talbot recalled her saying. He had not the slightest clue how long his master would have to endure this terrible curse, and as much as he wished to take it all upon himself, he found it unlikely that Crowley would ever allow it.

The Thief had shifted her attention back onto the brindle now, and Talbot somewhat hesitantly follow her gaze with his own. Crowley had stepped even further away by now, muscles tremoring as he eyed the mare fearfully. And then, when the Thief had given life to her voice and asked her innocent question, he seemed as if he might turn and bolt right then and there. He did in a sense, dancing to the left to put even more distance between them. "I don't need any help!" He proclaimed, snorting his protest, "J-Just... don't get any closer... please."

All across the Thief's face, the Weaver took notice of the relaxing of her features. He muscles were no longer stiff, appearing as though she might charge after him at any given moment, and her ears were no longer laced back in absolute hatred. Or, at least, that was how Crowley was perceiving all of this. To watch the mare finally take a deep breath and replace her terrifying demeanor with a more placid one was soothing to Crowley, but he couldn't yet find it in himself to relax completely or drop his guard.

Talbot could see that his master was calming, even if it was just a little and hardly noticeable. Sighing inwardly, happy to see the change, the hound turned his head back up to Faelene and curved his ears to listen to her. The thought of how long this curse would take, or what the next trial would be, absolutely terrified the pup. Would it only get worse from here? What could be worse? If the curse already had the Weaver so riled up that he couldn't look upon his herdmates without absolute terror, then there was nothing stopping him from harming himself on accident as a result.

With a nod of his head, Talbot gave the redmaned his silent answer. He was not as powerful, nor as fast or big as his master, but he would do his best to keep him within the boundaries of the Basin. He trusted that the Thief would help to keep an eye out as well, although he couldn't blame her if she chose not to.

As Faelene promised no movement, Crowley was silent, simply watching her; looking her over with a scrutinizing gaze, as if looking for any hints of a lie. However, with her voice gentle and her body still, the brindle found no tell tale signs that she was about to bring his demise upon him. Breathing a deep, hefty sigh, Crowley's trembling began to lessen and he forced his shuffling feet to a standstill. In the caverns of his chest, the Weaver's heart continued to pound, but he had stilled himself before Faelene and found himself meeting her dark eyes.

Listening quietly to the Thief's words, Crowley shifted his eyes in a quick glance to his loyal canine before returning them to Faelene. "I... my cave," he spoke up, the slightest quiver to his voice, "That's where I want to go. Do you promise that... that nobody will follow me there? That nobody will come in the cover of night?"