She'd tried to be there as much as she could for Sila, but there was only so much that she could do. Her heart ached to see the aftermath of Niviaq's death, but remembering their final conversation gave her some sort of solace in the old woman's death. Samus had made promises that she fully intended to keep. She was not a hero nor a savior, but she could be everything that Sila needed right now. And, perhaps, she could be everything that she needed after wounds had healed and the sun rose on a day where pain was not at the forefront of everyone's mind. The spring morning was cold, the sun just beginning to peak over the horizon, hidden by the grand, looming statues of the mountains that she'd always called home. The woman wandered idly through familiar trails, her paws taking her towards the higher peaks even before Sila's call filled her ears.

Almost instantly, Samus broke into a lope, her long and slender legs eating up the ground while her steps were sure and nimble over the mountainous terrain. She'd been born and bred in Spirane, mountain blood running thick through her veins, but recently she'd begun to wonder what a home really meant. The mountains had always been home, but she felt that now, her home might have four legs and a heartbeat. She'd known, musing over what that might mean, that she'd follow the honey-eyed woman wherever she might go after the dust settled.

She came upon the other woman soon enough, slowing to a trot and then a gentle, languid walk as she approached. Her face was serious and stony with a depth to her mahogany eyes that was both thoughtful and lamenting. Perhaps Sila had never seen such an expression on a face that usually wore a crooked grin, but she simply couldn't muster it. There was an anxiousness to Sila that made Samus curious, curious of why they'd met here of all places, and curious as to what was on her mind. They'd already said all there was to be said about Niviaq's death, and now they needed to wait for time's eternal march to heal them both. But Samus could weigh her own sadness against that of Sila's-- the woman would need her more than Samus could ever need her, right now.

Samus came up to stand beside her, rubbing her shoulder against Sila's and reaching down to graze her muzzle against Sila's cheek. She sat, then, something to lean on if need be, and looked out over the horizon. The sun was spreading golden tendrils across the land of Moladion, rushing towards them like a light-bearing chariot, the sky a beautiful mixture of oranges and reds and pinks. "Always been beautiful up here." She murmured, but it was an empty statement, a simple platitude, as if the beauty of the sunrise needed to be told such a thing.