Things had been quiet in Avalon since the raid. The drizzly spring hadn't helped with the mood. Even the sheep seemed subdued, though at least the lambing had gone well. She'd intended to put on a flower festival this year but it was just felt too wet and dreary for planting flowers and celebrating, and she couldn't imagine that the other packs felt much differently. Who would want to travel all the way to Avalon just to sit around in the rain and plant flowers that would just rot in the ground before they could grow?

Corbie tried to shake off the dreary feeling as she lay in the hide shelter in the sheep pasture guarding the flock, but even with the hide keeping the rain off everything still felt damp and dreary. It made even the stoic and straightforward alpha feel somewhat depressed, and she sighed as she watched the sheep huddled together in the middle of the pasture around the bigger open sided shelters there for them. Well, at least the wooly beasties weren't off getting themselves into trouble - even they didn't want to get out in this.

The relentless rain of spring had turned the world to a muted tapestry of grays and greens, the earth soft and yielding underfoot. Tyrfing moved through this sodden landscape with a purposeful gait, his large paws leaving deep impressions in the mushy pasture. He seemed undisturbed by the chill or the dampness that clung to him, even as the water began to pool and drip from the horns that crowned his head. He found Corbie in the hide shelter, her gaze fixed on the huddled sheep. His alpha - usually so vibrant and engaging - seemed subdued, her energy dimmed by the aftermath of the raid and the gloom of the weather. With a respectful nod to her authority and space, Tyrfing settled beside her, just outside the shelter. The raid, the one he hadn't been present for, weighed heavily on his mind, too. Guilt gnawed at him for his absence, for the time spent searching for Aris when he should have been defending his home. He couldn't undo the past, but he was here now. Whatever became of the fiery purple-marked woman, Tyrfing had decided it was better he didn't know. Avalon needed him; she did not. "Góðan daginn." Tyrfing's voice cut through the drizzle, clear and composed. "Something on your mind?"

The world was made just that bit brighter at the sound of a familiar, though rare, voice cutting through the dreary rain. "Tyrfing!" she said with pleasure. The warrior has been distant for some time - she hadn't been sure what had happened to the male to make him so quiet and withdrawn, but she'd given him his space to let him process whatever it was in his own way. Seeing him out and about now might mean that whatever it was had been resolved, so she was glad for him. She grimaced faintly at his question though. "Not... Anything particular," she said hesitantly. "Just moping about soggily I suppose. It's just so grey and dreary that I can't seem to shake feeling colorless myself." Of course she all but was colorless anyway, except her eyes, but it made the metaphor all the more appropriate, maybe.

Tyrfing's ears perked at the sound of his name, a faint smile curling the corner of his mouth as Corbie greeted him. His fuchsia gaze settled upon her, noting the subtle grimace that crossed her features, the hesitancy in her voice. He gave a slow, understanding nod, his horned head tilting slightly as he contemplated the right response. "The grey skies do cast a heavy shadow, don't they?" he mused, his voice a low, comforting rumble. "But even the most vibrant flower needs the rain to grow." His gaze momentarily drifted from Corbie to the dreary landscape surrounding them, then returned to her. His expression softened, a gentle warmth in his eyes. "And just as the sun returns after the rain, brighter days will come for Avalon too." The warrior was there to listen, to understand, to share the burden of the grey, rain-soaked days... but how to remind her that they wouldn't last forever? The silence stretched between them, filled only by the steady patter of rain. Then, an idea sparked in Tyrfing's mind, a way to lift the gloom that seemed to cling to them both. "Lets play a game." He rose to his feet in one fluid movement, giving a shake of his pelt to dislodge some of the wetness that had been building in his fur. Reaching over to a nearby bush, Tyrfing plucked a small, resilient, leafy branch and tucked it securely into one of his rear-limb bracers. "We each tuck something like this leaf into our fur." He explained. "The goal is to remove the other's token without losing your own." Spotting a feather poking out from a hide wrapping within the shelter, he moved to carefully extract it and approach with it, his alpha. With a gentle yet decisive motion, he aimed to tuck the feather behind the base of her ear. "There, now we both have our tokens." His stance shifted, becoming light, playful, and inviting. A subtle challenge laid bare in his bright eyes, an invitation to momentarily forget the greyness of their world. "What do you say? Will you chase away the dreariness with me?"

Tyrfing's wise words were soothing despite the gloom over her, but though she nodded in agreement - intellectually, she knew what he said was true, but she just couldn't feel it - she sighed and lapsed into silence as they gazed out over the rain-soaked fields. Let's play a game he suddenly said, and she glanced over at him, startled, as he was tucking a stick into one of his bracers. "A game?" she repeated in surprise, and could only blink as he suddenly tucked a feather behind her ear. She sat up slowly, ears pricked towards him. A spark of interest chased away some of the dreariness. She knew that was exactly the point, and she knew it was good for her - good for them both. She let the challenge in his eyes drawing out a grin of her own, until she decisively hopped to her paws, front lowered in a play bow. "You're on," she laughed, then spun and took off into the wet grass.