The longer Siobhan lived in the Inlet, the more comfortable she became. She wasn't sure if it would ever truly be home for her in the same way that the jungle was, but she no longer feared it. Thankfully, her memories from her first imprisonment here were largely sad and not otherwise tainted by what had happened to her in the Arch. Some places still made her cringe away, and she still woke most nights from one night terror or another, but she at least wasn't truly alone.

Ailill and her eldest daughters may have moved on to their own lives and adventures for now, but she still had Aoife. Her bright little daughter was the main reason she was able to keep waking up and moving on, even though their life was in shambles. She did her best to keep a smile on her face for the girl, and to engage her any time that she wanted to play. Siobhan knew it was lonely in the Inlet for now. Unlike the Ridge, there were no other children for her daughter to play with, and few adults to pester.

She had, to her own surprise, felt herself becoming closer to Tigerlily. The situation was a strange one for Siobhan to stomach, and she often shied away from examining it too closely. If she looked too long or peered too deeply into it (into the way she wanted Tigerlily and Bjorn to be happy whilst also jealously wishing that he was still hers to hold, even while her heart sobbed at Ailill's absence), she fell into a spiral that often ended with tears freezing into crystal dewdrops on her lashes. Regardless of her own trials, it was nice to have a companion at your side through the winter that didn't wish for your immediate demise.

Siobhan had only just come back from a solo walk - more to warm up her pale limbs than anything - when a flicker of movement catches her eye. She turns toward it warily with the expectation of finding a predator of some sort - be it equine or canine - and instead finds a lost young boy. By the looks of him, he can't be more than a weanling, and he certainly isn't one of Bjorn's. There is nothing in the boy's fine, aristocratic features that would suggest he had any relation to Bjorn or Tigerlily. Nor, really, did he look as though he belonged here at all. His thin coat and wide, frightened eyes suggested he was here on accident and she instinctively moved closer, hard-wired as she was to provide care and concern.

The part of her that had been burned by the likes of Nyimara and Cullen screams for her to hesitate, to reconsider, but she ignores it. She doesn't care if the boy is a trap or bait. He clearly needs help and she refuses to watch a child suffer without doing something to mitigate it.

Her hustle abates as she gets closer and she whickers quietly to the boy - her gaze taking in his swollen and bleeding leg with no small amount of concern. "Hey there," she says softly, her gaze gentle and warm as it returns to his face. "Are you okay?" She asks, intuiting that he is very much not okay. She shifts to offer her side to him, not wanting to make him feel threatened. "Here, stand beside me out of the wind if you like." A sad smile appears on her lips as she gestures and she drops her head toward him. "I'm Siobhan."

She didn't know who he was or why he was here, but she already knew that she would do what she needed to do to protect him. Regardless of where he had come from, he was still a child in very clear need of assistance.