An uneasy silence fell over the students in Owlan's classroom even though Horwell attempted entering as unnoticeably as he could. "Owlan, may I ask a favor of you?" The scarf-less teacher asked quietly before gesturing vaguely toward some of the blooms lining the window of the classroom. Pausing, he glanced down toward the scarlet fabric he held before leading the other man out into the hall, closing the door behind them. "Will you cut some of your flowers for us?"
"What happened?" The white-haired man's brow furrowed deeply, eventually settling on the tiny bundle in his colleague's hands. Kukiel sniffled wetly, turning her head to watch both instructors through her puffy, teary eyes, closing them when her mother began stroking her hair again.
"Kukiel's puppy died," Horwell explained, grimacing as Kukiel began crying again. "And we're going to have a funeral for her. ...actually, I'll need something to dig with, too, so if you could..."
A few seconds later, Owlan nodded, returning to his classroom to dismiss the students—instead of simply celebrating and dashing outside like they usually would, however, most of the trainees stayed behind, curious to know what had happened. Thankfully, Owlan did not divulge any information about Kukiel's personal tragedy. Unfortunately, some of the female students noticed Wryna comforting her daughter near the kitchen and probed an answer out of her very easily.
They flocked to Horwell and Owlan, some of them already misty-eyed with deep sympathy. Horwell did not address them, politely asking them not to bother the poor girl—Owlan did not share similar mildness, instead dismissing them with few words after being pestered for explanation.
After he'd gone upstairs, Wryna approached Horwell again with a slightly calmer Kukiel, smiling distantly at some of the students. "Kukiel," she asked softly, her lips moving against the top of her daughter's head, "Would you like to invite some of the big girls to Blackie's funeral? They look like they want to help you feel better. Maybe they'll have some nice things to say, too."
Kukiel didn't respond, hanging limply in her mother's arms. She sniffled and choked out a single sob when Karane waved to her from across the hall, wiping her eyes with the backs of her heavy sleeves before flinging it toward the other girl in a halfhearted response.
"Honey? What do you think?" As the little girl nodded against her shoulder, Wryna left Horwell's company to speak with some of the girls chattering quietly off to the side.
Owlan returned shortly afterward with an eclectic and elaborate arrangement of blossoms in one hand, a spade in the other. Horwell exchanged a fond but pained grin with him, nodding appreciatively. "Would you like to come with us?" he asked. "I'm certain you'd dig a better plot than I ever could..."
"Oh, they're beautiful," Wryna gasped, reaching out to brush her fingertips along the petals of a pale lily centered in the bouquet. "Look, Kukiel, look what Instructor Owlan brought for Blackie... Aren't they pretty?"
Hesitantly, Kukiel twisted around in her mother's grasp, extending her arms toward the flowers. Owlan did his best to give her a reassuring smile as he handed them over, waiting for Horwell to begin leaving before following along with the small party that had accumulated in the hall during his absence. A few residents of Skyloft that noticed the group passing by made sure to inquire and offer their sympathies to Kukiel upon learning the meaning behind the gathering. Along the way, Wryna waved her husband down and handed Kukiel off to him, resting a tired hand on his arm while waiting patiently for their daughter to choose a spot to bury her puppy. The chill wind outside combined with her exhaustion was already making the poor girl sleepy, but as they ventured toward the sparkling, flowing river in the middle of Skyloft, her head perked up.
"There," Kukiel whimpered, stabbing a finger toward the quiet, secluded graveyard across the bridge. "That tree right there... Can we put her under there where there's people already buried?"
Jakamar kissed his daughter enthusiastically, glancing toward his wife for approval. "I think that's a great idea. When you're asleep at night, she'll have other people to play with so she won't get lonely. Good thinking... I know just where to put her, too."
In the center of the bridge, Horwell relinquished the puppy to Wryna, shaking his head when she began unraveling the scarf wrapped around her. "She'll need to stay warm, won't she? It's really not a problem. Owlan and I agree that it's best for us to be going and leave things to Kukiel."
The woman clasped her hands together, relieved, eventually flinging her arms around Horwell's neck in gratitude. "Thank you so much, Instructors. You've done a lot for us today and I know Kukiel certainly appreciates it, too."
"Thank you," Kukiel parroted in a hiccupping voice, wiping at her eyes again. "I-I really like these flowers, Unstrucker Owly..."
Jakamar took the spade from the white-haired teacher, winking appreciatively at his wife. "I'll take it from here. Thanks for taking care of my family, Owlan and Horwell. I'll be sure to bring it back tonight before we all head home."
"Take care," Horwell replied, and after exchanging a quiet goodbye with Kukiel, he and Owlan left to return to the academy.
The walk back felt endless, and Horwell kept his head down the entire time. He could almost feel Owlan sorting through his muddled thoughts in search of something to say, looking over at him briefly to meet what the other man probably thought was a stealthy flick of his eyes.
Knowing he'd been caught, Owlan's cheeks flushed with color. "You're a good person, Horwell," he said softly, folding his arms over his chest with a sagely nod. "You'd probably sell everything you owned just to save the life of a butterfly. I know you tried your very best and we both made things a little easier for that little girl, I think. You're very kindhearted and probably one of the most generous and altruistic people in all of the skies—"
"Owlan..." Horwell interrupted, placing a knowing hand between Owlan's shoulders. "You don't have to say anything, you know. I know you mean well and you're just trying to not make things awkward... But you don't have to speak."
Without replying, Owlan hesitantly lifted his own hand and rested it on Horwell's left shoulder, stepping closer and finally laying his head against the other man. Their hands ghosted together as they walked, wind whipping strands of white and brown hair together.
"...it's a little cold outside, isn't it?"
Owlan removed his scarf, tossing half of it around Horwell's neck while he leaned in to kiss his partner's cheek. Horwell leaned into him, touching their foreheads together as he mouthed a few words of gratitude.
"I'm just grateful that you're here for me. It means a lot."