Strange, she had thought, to feel an anger that was not her own. She could identify that much at least, though her understanding of why Tithe had felt such a way had not been something she could discern. Of course, she had expected some kind of... feeling considering the circumstances and yet, the intensity of it had been beyond what she had expected. Daenerys had been, after all, a friend and so, Pandora had expected there to be some kind of... resolution besides violence when Tithe had been called off of the mountain. It only made sense to her for that to occur - she had predicted Tithe would arrive with diplomacy at his back and that Daenerys would respond accordingly. Perhaps they could come to a resolution that involved both in power or, at least, an exchange that allowed the other a position of authority. She had even considered the possibility of Daenerys seeking out power elsewhere, though she had quickly dismissed that ideology when she considered the woman's legacy on the mountain. So why? Why had she felt such an uncomfortable spike of anger and misery in her very gut?

As if on cue, a howl had been there to summon her, followed closely by the howl of a victorious queen. Up until that point, Pandora had been basking with her mother and younger sister; they had spent the morning gathering the last of spring's bounty in an effort to remain distracted from the power struggle. Now, her mother had risen sympathetically, nodding towards the sound of Daenerys as she understood her need to attend; Sila, on the other hand, had stuck closely to Pandora with her little pelt of healing goods. Niviaq had always known the way of the world better than she let on. Sila, too, had apparently been instructed on what would occur. Both would need a healer and, as much as Pandora despised to admit it, she was not enough to mend the flesh of her imprint.

Sila and she then departed the mountain, slipping down the paths that lead away from the meeting that had begun to take place. Pandora had already admitted to herself that it may be her last time on the mountain for some time, lest Tithe have it within himself to stay and yet, Sila remained in the land of unknowing. She had a loyalty to her mother, after all, a wolf who needed support in her elderly years. Together though, they knew they had to aid their former king. So, Pandora lead the way, drawn by the call of Taika as Sila loped along beside her, her shoulder keenly brushing by her sister's from time to time to soothe the sound of her pounding heart. "Do not worry, sister," she would chime in from time to time with a sympathetic smile, "there is seldom a wound too great to heal. After all, it is in our blood to do so!" Pandora would grin and quip back and yet, her lips would become taut again nonetheless. Flesh wounds perhaps, she considered, and yet it was not a flesh wound that she had felt within herself.

It took them a short while before the pair arrived; Sila had no hesitation in approaching, calling down into the den with a gentle voice: "My name is Sila, a healer," she had never said of Spirane for her services had never meant to be exclusive, "I've come with my sister, Pandora. Sir, would you be able to come out so I can tend to you?" She waited a moment, her tail waving but then, she stood back with a quiet sigh. Her smile was sadder now and Pandora knew. The golden woman nodded and approached the den herself, calming herself before she stuck her head into the darkness; it still smelt of she and he, of winter. It made her catch her breath.

"Tithe," she called out, her eyes glancing towards Taika with a sudden sharpness, as if she had some kind of answer for it all. "Tithe, I smell blood. I know it's yours. You need to let us help you." Her voice had never been much in the way of gentleness and even now, it held an authority that she felt was needed. He could not stay coiled up in the dark. That was no life for a king.