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"Arthur?'
The voice that rang across the clearing belonged to none other than the pale, limping femme that now stood amidst the space with a look dancing across her gaze that reflected a sort of anguish- but mostly composed of relief. Nonetheless, she had turned her head towards the leader's den, verdant eyes carrying a blossom of hope- that he would still be here, even after she had been dragged away from her home and into the depths of the unknown mainland.
Evergreen.
The femme had retained her sense of pride; while her ribs jutted against her thin, once soft as silk pelt she held her head high. Perhaps she was only being dragged into such hopes by a thread of possibility that he still remained here, after all this time. And yet, unable to bear the possibility of the disappearance of those she had once known, the figure would remain in the clearing while containing her trembling limbs.
