The chill of autumn was inescapable in the dark of night. It wrapped around her with the audacity of a lover, stroking cold fingers down the length of her spine until shivers rippled across the length of her body. Even with a full year in which to adjust, her body held tight to the trauma of the first few miserable seasons she'd spent on Tinuvel beneath Nyimara and then Aranck. She'd been so unprepared for the changing of the season that the winter had stolen the very tips of her ears as well as much of the easy trust she'd once held for Bjorn.

He'd worked to earn it back, but a part of her still woke in the dark from the nightmares of the months she'd spent in the Arch, and spent the rest of the night wondering what had become of Bjorn in her stead. She'd heard that Aranck had disappeared, eventually, although this knowledge had not been so much delivered as it had been inferred from the transition of Aranck as her antagonist to Cullen. Surely if Nyimara still had her claws in the silver bay stallion that starred in Siobhan's nightmares, he would have still been haunting her family.

A shadow nearby kept stealing her gaze away from the stars, and she watched it in long, quiet contemplation for hours before she finally approached. She knew who it was even before the dim starlight revealed the face of her handsome Bera Konung, and she felt the familiar twinge of heartache and guilt as she stepped closer. Siobhan knew it was wrong of her to invite this sort of intimacy with Tigerlily sleeping peacefully nearby, but the night was long and her heart was sore... and she still owed Bjorn a thank you.

"It's just me," she murmured softly as she stepped up to take up a position at his side, her heart thrumming with the closeness of his figure. Already the warmth of his body was helping to ease the tension in her body as the subterranean shivers raced through her figure, but she dared not press herself any closer. Bjorn was, as far as she was concerned, Tigerlily's. He could be (and had been) a good father for Deirdre, but she was under no illusion as to how different their relationship was these days.

She had betrayed him, in a way, just as he had betrayed her first.

The ledger between them was crisscrossed with so many side notes and tear stains that it hardly remained legible... but Siobhan knew the score. She would forever owe Bjorn for the safety he provided to her now while Ailill was gone, and for the beautiful gift of their second daughter.

"I…" She began softly, raising her gaze to his briefly before casting it away before the emotion could choke her. "I wanted to say thank you. For everything - for Deirdre, and for taking us in, and for protecting us." And before she could think better of it, she stretched gently to press her muzzle against his shoulder in thanks.

The familiar smell of him was its own sweet agony, and her throat constricted in a tight swallow. She hated the way she longed to feel him wrap around her as he once had. And she knew that Ailill still loved her, wherever he was. It was already selfish of her to be taking up any of Bjorn's time, let alone when she considered the fact that she already had a lover of her home... somewhere... she hoped.