Shandath was old enough and Whren would understand. Jemaselle didn't want to say that she was taking advantage of her more easy going adoptative sibling. Most people wouldn't say that of Whren, but then most did not know him, and the sharp keen intellect and sharp tongue hide a truly loyal person. Shandath came first, and she knew he understood. Even if he was going through things and she couldn't understand it and did and couldn't put it in words.

Shandath... Shandath was like something had filled a missing piece she never knew was missing. She had heard but she never knew how much was true till it happened. Flits were not the same, her care for her siblings or her parents were not the same. Nothing was the same as Shandath, she was perfect and even that word wasn't enough to describe the bond.. but she did have a duty to Whren.

Shandath knew it too and on her rest day, when Shandath was old enough that if the talk ended up a bit too emotional... screaming maybe, though unlikely, that Shandath would be okay.

Whren wasn't that difficult to find... in as much as he cast a sort of loner mysterious aura, she knew him enough. She saw his faire first, well part of them. He usually had a look out. One of the bronzes, she could see just enough of a shiny hide before they blinked back.

Well she was on the right track. She found the area that he preferred to exercise, and his flits... he had gotten more. He was dressed well at least. She hadn't expected him to stop caring for himself but it was a good sign. He wore linen, simple pants and tunic, loose and relaxed, and broken in boots. She knew he had a knife hidden somewhere, he always did.

The faire had grown, but they were well taken care off.

He was doing sprints, and he was lagging and she could pick up something was off. A miss step, a slid, a frustrating sound and the continuation again, again, if just to do something.