As the weeks passed and the wounds Cullen had inflicted on the Ridge slowly stitched themselves closed, life regained a feeling of normality. Things had changed, and some of those things would never return to their previous state of existence, but the days maintained consistence and for that Faolain was grateful.

She kept a slight limp as a souvenir of her battle with the Lagoon boss, and one of her eyes was a little fuzzy, but the bruises faded and the soreness ebbed away. She knew the limp would fade eventually, and it was likely her sight would clear up in time as well, but she was getting used to these small handicaps while she had them. Her patrols of the land were much slower than they had been, and Faolain was careful picking her way through the complicated paths through the undergrowth. But she maintained her cat-like grace, stretching her muscles over time to limber herself up again after the stiffness of overexertion and injury had seemed to lock up her body.

As her physical ailments healed, her anger abated as well. It had not felt good to release her fury on Cullen, no matter how much he deserved it, and she was left with a good amount of burning rage within her even after he left. As that slowly faded, Faolain felt empty and exhausted, but better. She released it in small amounts as she healed; sometimes it was a water fight with Rivaini and Hades in the lake, or a few hours simply looking out over the ocean from the peak as the sun set. Sometimes a very conservative game of nip-and-chase with the younger foals was therapeutic. Faolain was no fool - she knew she could not hold onto her anger. She could not afford to let it fester in her heart. Slowly, she banished it, and after much time, she felt peaceful once again.

Despite this progress, Faolain still rose to her hooves with great suspicion when she heard the two strangers picking their way up the incline. Ears cupped forward, she trotted in the direction of the sound, nearly colliding with the black brother of the pair. She dug her heels in before she lost her footing, and tossed her head in frustration. She did not immediately have reason to believe these two were up to no good, but she was mildly annoyed that they had simply strolled right in. The ‘Teke was ashamed to realize that this was just another toxin left in Nyimara’s wake, and with some effort she relaxed herself and drew a deep breath.

“Hello,” she said calmly, the annoyance slowly fading. The pair looked friendly enough, but the black one into whom she had almost smacked looked a little mischievous. It reminded her of the look Hades usually wore when he was plotting something. It made her smile, just a little bit. “Welcome to the Ridge. What brings you?”