Her rest had been fitful, even after the night's conversation with Ruka had come to a close and left her more weary than she had been on arrival. The wounds had ceased leaking, this was good; even as she moved out of the cool cave and into the Basin, the rippling of her muscles didn't rip back open what had been seamed together in the throws of her sleep. She made each step carefully, still, and with very little flair compared to what normally would have graced her movements. She had heard Lena's song drift across the still air of the mountain pass, the notes rousing her, and while sleep still clung to the corners of her eyes, she knew that the carnage upon her top line required attention well before the moment at hand.

The look of worry upon Ruka's face had trampled any illusions she had of it being much worse in sensation than in reality.

In all honestly, she hadn't slept much longer than an hour, rather pondered various ways in which she could better herself, to avoid the mishaps that had ensued over the course of the invasions. Mostly irritated with her own failures, the mare contrived ways in which the battle in the Edge may have played out in her favor, and no matter how she differed her the video in her head, every movement she altered still resulting in the dragon being the deciding factor; she couldn't fly, and had no one but herself to evade the creature with.

The vision of Lena and Imogen further riled her feathers at the thought of companions, taking note, not for the first or last time, that the two seemed so perfectly fitted to one another. The white and sapphire fox devil was draped across the bay's rump, both of their figures worn down by the battle in the forest. Concern wrote itself into the lines between the pain that each step brought her, but a pride in her people lifted her head as she approached the pair, knowing that while they had returned without the spoils they had wished, those who had marched into battle having proven that their hearts had not frozen solid in the long months of waiting, standing still as death upon the peak of the mountain. Their loyalty still burned, and for this, and this alone, Illynx was thankful.

"Lena," she called ahead of her softly, the agonizingly slow pace at which the Lady moved quickening only slightly after the close of the healer's name, "I am glad to see you made it home." She halted a couple of feet in front of the bay unicorn and her bonded, her golden eyes sweeping across the weary form of Imogen, concern for the small creature lighting her gaze, however unusual it may be for her to worry for those she knew. Perhaps it was that her responsibility to them was felt more keenly now that she and Psyche had to guide their movements, that they each would turn to the Lady's and ask which step should be taken next.

She did not know, and it burned more deeply than the carnage upon her back ever would.