Hey, everyone! Sorry that this update took longer than usual, I had a lot of things going on (including a fractured elbow which makes it harder to write), but I managed to finish this one up.

By the time Tristan arrived in the general vicinity of his home with the bright circle beating on his back like a shower of pouring rain, he truly felt that his legs might give out right then and there. His back ached, and he was unsure of just how much more of this he could take. In his defense, Amelia had always been the stronger one out of the both of them. He had no doubt in his mind that if the situation called for it, she could carry him home in a jiffy.

She had been strong and resilient the entire time that he'd known her. She had always let everyone lean on her in times of hardship, and now, it was time for Tristan to repay the favor. He hauled her limp body into the shadow of the cave, slowly loosening his grip as he helped her into the nest.

Once she was safely nestled into the carefully crafted cradle of leaves and grass, Tristan sat himself down besides her. His amber eyes sadly locked onto her, he sighed. He wondered when she'd gotten so heavy, despite being so underweight. Then, it occurred to him that perhaps he was just a scrawny weakling, so he kept that thought to himself.

As the minutes passed, his children coming home on time was the last thing on his mind. He dipped his head, gazing down sadly at the static and unmoving form of his mate, keeping track of every breath that slipped through her mouth, and any movement that she made. So far, her condition was trending in neither direction — there had been no change. Tristan supposed that was a good thing, as she wasn't deteriorating, but on the flip side, she wasn't improving either. What if she were to remain like this for the rest of her life? Gulping for breath, twitching abnormally in her sleep, confined to the throes of the nest? He hated to see her suffer, hated it more than anything in the world. He hoped that her suffering wouldn't drag on forever. In that case, perhaps, a peaceful death was more merciful.

Tristan was clearly delving too deeply into this matter, and shook his head to push any intrusive thoughts towards the back of his mind. He had to focus on the present, for in the present, Amelia was still alive, and as long as she lived, there was still hope for her recovery from this brutal ordeal.

He leaned in close, his voice almost as soft as a whisper. "Amelia? Can you hear me?" He paused, and gave his question some thought. Then, he chuckled to himself. "Well, you probably can't, but I'll talk to you anyway." He drew in a sigh that seemed bittersweet, yet nostalgic, as if he were recalling all the times she'd saved him from sure death. "Amelia, whatever this is, you need to pull through it. I know you can, because you're very strong, far stronger than I am, and you've pulled through worse. I promise, after all this is over, we can lie about and sleep all day as much as we want, and we can watch the colorful lights stretch across the sky from the north all night. Do you remember how we used to watch them when we were younger? We can do that again, but only if you get better. Please, Amelia...wake up. Please wake up."

If Amelia could hear a single word he said, she didn't show it. There were no quiet mumbles of his name, or even a movement of her limbs. She simply laid there like a vegetable, drawing in ragged sounding breaths, like the sound of claws scraping against wood. Occasionally, her eyelids would flutter, but she never opened her eyes. It was apparent that she was trying her hardest to push through this, but her efforts weren't enough.

Tristan laid his head down beside that of his mate's. He licked her cheek as a way to bring her some comfort while she was trapped in this state. As he leaned against her, he was glad to find that she was still cold. If she was warm, the overheating of her body would kill her much quicker than any other force of nature would.

"Mm," she mumbled softly, followed by a series of continuous coughs, racking her body in the same way that storms ravaged the land.

Tristan lifted his head a few inches, waiting until the phlegmy wheezing noise produced by her airway finally ceased. He then touched his snout to hers, eyes softening as she gave a weak groan, tucking her arms underneath her stomach as she lowered herself back to the ground.

As his mate slipped back into an unconscious state, the male rainbow face'd optimism diminished. The situation only continued to worsen, and Tristan hadn't even thought of how he would break this awful development to his girls. This wasn't something he could withhold from them, as their mother's condition spoke for itself, telling a rather melancholic tale.

No matter. This wasn't something that should be kept secret from them, regardless. They had every right to know if their mother would be able to see them grow up and start families of their own, or if they'd have to bid her farewell before even reaching adulthood. When the time came, he would tell them, Tristan decided. Once he had mentally affirmed his decision, he bowed his head and proceeded to rearrange the bedding of the nest, cushioning the area underneath her chin. Then, he waited patiently. For what, he didn't know.

Eva sat in a patch of grass on her stomach, watching as the pointy pinecone barreled towards her. She and her friends had come up with a newer variation of the pointy seed game, where the winner was whoever aimed the seed highest, using the sail on Eva's back as a indicator of some sort.

The pinecone continued rolling downhill, finally coming to a complete stop when making contact with Eva's side. Petrie looked on sadly, as even his best aim wasn't enough to make the cut.

"Don't feel bad, Petrie," Littlefoot said, attempting to lift the flyer's spirits, "Maybe you'll make it next time."

"Pfft," Cera scoffed, "The only way he'd actually make it next time is if he grew a foot or two. He's barely as big as the pointy seed, it's no wonder he can't make a proper shot."

Petrie put his hands on his hips, scowling at the threehorn. "Oh, yeah? Well, me bet you no can go over Eva's head."

Eva glanced upwards, a rather uneasy look in her green eyes. She wasn't exactly warming up to the idea of her friends aiming pinecones at her head.

"That's enough," Ruby intervened, a stern expression on her face. "Eva is our friend, and we should not use her as something to play with."

"Yeah," agreed Chomper, "And those seeds hurt. I know I wouldn't want to get hit in the head with one of those."

Miriam began to say something to concur with her friends, but was distracted by her sister, whose limbs twitched continually. Mackenzie's eyes were wide, her pupils the size of small, black circles.

Miriam leaned over, keeping her voice low as she spoke. "Mackenzie, what is it? Another vision?"

Mackenzie did not respond at first, but when she briefly snapped out of her trance, she managed to nod in Miriam's direction.

"Is it the one about mom again?" Miriam, having slept beside her sister each night, was well informed about the visions that the latter was plagued with. As of late, these cryptic visions had mostly centered around their mother. Miriam didn't quite understand it, and was rather oblivious to the looming threat. She shook her head, lowering her brows. "Look, the last time you had a vision about mom, nothing happened. Why would something happen now?"

"I don't know," replied Mackenzie, closing her eyes as she tried to think. "I don't know, but the feeling's a lot stronger this time."

Ducky, who had unintentionally been eavesdropping, cut in on their conversation. "What is a lot stronger this time?"

Miriam and Mackenzie glanced at each other, and sighed.

"It's nothing, Ducky," said Miriam, smiling sweetly at the duckbill.

Meanwhile, Eva had already stood up, and walked towards the top of the slope. She seemed to be looking out for something, or trying to confirm her doubts about something she'd spotted in the distance. A few moments passed, and then, a smile spread across her face.

Chomper joined her at the top, intrigued by whatever had caught her attention. "What are you looking at, Eva?"

"Michael!" She called out, running down the slope like a steak of silver. Ignoring the wet grass sticking to the soles of her feet , she found herself clasped in the arms of an old friend.

Michael had been walking up the slope with his family, when he recognized the flurry of pale lilac charging towards him. At first, he was uncertain of whether or not it was truly her, but once she came into the light, he saw that it couldn't be anyone else.

He held her close, giving her light body a twirl before setting her back down on the ground, laughing.

"Michael," she gasped, out of breath, "You're here!"

"Well, I did tell you we'd meet again someday, didn't I?"

"Yes, but I didn't think it would be so soon!" She giggled, her eyes traveling towards Molly, followed by a gentle gasp. "You found her! You found Molly!"

Molly's eyes widened in surprise as she glanced over at a sheepish Michael. She then cleared her throat. "...You told her about me?"

"Uh, yeah..." Michael chuckled, rubbing the nape of his neck with his hand. "Sorry."

"Sorry? Why would you be sorry? She's adorable!" Molly chortled, scratching Eva under her chin and cooing at her as if she were a tiny hatchling.

Miriam and Mackenzie walked up to their rainbow faced friends, who looked more thrilled than they had in months. Since Mackenzie seemed to be somewhere else, Miriam chose to strike up conversation with them.

"You guys found your dad? But I thought he...?"

"So did we," answered Adam, "But he came back for us."

"He always said he would never give up on our family," added Gabriel, "It's nice to see that he stayed true to his word." He smiled politely, but was suddenly drawn towards Mackenzie's harassed eyes. He spent a long time looking at her before looking to her sister. "Is Mackenzie alright?"

"She's fine. It's just another one of her nervous ticks."

"No, it's not," Mackenzie protested. "And I don't appreciate you dismissing my feelings like that. I don't think you'd feel too great if I dismissed your relapses as you just being lazy."

"I'm sorry," Miriam mumbled apologetically, admitting that her sister had a valid point. "But Mackenzie, I really think you're worrying too much about some dumb vision."

Gabriel switched between Miriam and Mackenzie, glancing back and forth at each of them, searching for answers. "Wait, what kind of visions?"

"Of my mother," Mackenzie explained, dipping her head slightly, "Ones where she just...disappears. I see visions of her where she's pale and thin, like she's sick. I don't know how to explain it, but they give me a very bad feeling. I mean, I get visions a lot, and they usually turn out to be true."

At that moment, Cera nonchalantly walked up to them. "Then why don't you go and check on her?"

"I would, Cera," said Mackenzie, "But this one doesn't believe me."

Miriam, aware that she had been called out, gave a curt huff. "Well, I would believe you, if it didn't sound so ridiculous."

"There's no harm in checking, though."

"There's no harm in not checking, either. We'll see her by the time the bright circle sets anyway."

"Why are you being so adamant about this? This is mom we're talking about!"

"Exactly! This is mom, and she can't be sick!"

Concerned by the yelling and bickering, the rest of the adolescent dinosaurs had made their way over. Littlefoot listened carefully, and analyzed the situation. After a long silence, he spoke up.

"Do you think that maybe...you're scared?"

Miriam's body lost any tension it had previously held, her eyes as wide as the bright circle itself. "I suppose I am scared. My mom, she's never been sick before, she's always taken care of me when I was sick. She's always been so healthy, and I— why am I telling you this?"

"Because we're friends," Littlefoot answered in the blink of an eye, "And friends tell each other things."

Miriam's shocked expression was washed away, replaced by one of gratitude. "…I just don't want to see her like that. It's not natural, especially not for her."

"But illness is a natural part of life," Michael interjected, wedging his head in between Littlefoot and Ruby, "You can't exactly run away from it."

"Everyone gets sick," Molly said in addition, "Even those as healthy as your mother."

"I can't believe Tristan never told you this. Some father he is," Michael joked, earning him a light slap on the shoulder from Molly.

Miriam looked up at the two older dinosaurs, and nodded slowly. "Will you come with us to find our parents, then?"

"Of course we will. Why, I can hardly wait to scare the living daylights out of my best friend."

Molly shook her head in dismay. "You really don't have anything else to do except bother that poor man, do you?"

Littlefoot stepped forward. "I hope your mom turns out to be okay. If not, then we can always go to the Valley of Mists to get the night flowers for her."

"Oh, no." Cera shook her head in clear protest. "No way am I ever going back into that disgusting place again."

Littlefoot chuckled sheepishly. "Well, most of us."

"Thanks, Littlefoot," said Mackenzie, offering a kind smile to show her gratitude, "Let's just hope that won't be necessary."

Cera lifted her chin and huffed. "If we're done here, can we get back to our game?"

"If we are, then count me out," Eva stated, promptly walking off.

"Oh, come on, Eva," Cera urged, rolling her eyes, "Don't be such a baby."

After offering an amused chuckle, Mackenzie joined the quartet of rainbow faces, who turned tail and ran down the slope. For the first time in her life, Mackenzie hoped with all her heart that her vision was wrong. She hoped that this vision was only a result of her own paranoia, and that in actuality, her mother was as lively and healthy as she always had been.

Andy had only meant to pay Amelia and Tristan a friendly visit with his baby daughter. He'd never expected to find Amelia in such a sickly state. His jaw dropped, and he gently set Sophie down on the floor.

Sophie, a curious and inquisitive hatchling, skittered over and sampled a sniff of the ailing rainbow face's scales. She seemed to sense that something was amiss, that something just wasn't right.

"Tristan..." Andy's voice was notably softer as he gathered his daughter back into his arms. "What happened?"

"I don't know, Andy," Tristan replied, clearly exhausted, "One moment she was fine, we were happy, and the next..."

Andy slouched slightly, looking down at his friend with a sullen frown. "Is she going to be alright? Do you know what she has?"

"I know nothing. She could be dying, for all I know."

"Come on, don't speak like that."

"It's true. I'm not a healer, I can't possibly know what's wrong with her. The only thing I can do is stay by her side, in case the worst happens."

Andy smiled in a rather somber manner as he nodded his head. "I wish I could have been by Diana's side when she died. It's always been something that haunted me, her dying alone and afraid."

Tristan looked up, peering into Andy's eyes. "Do you think she was afraid?"

Andy was silent, as if he didn't have a response for him. Then, he looked into Sophie's sparkling eyes, which were so like her mother's, and he smiled. "…I think she was afraid, but she didn't let her fear stop her from doing what she wanted. She wanted to protect me, and to protect Sophie. All she wanted was for us to live…I sure hope I've done her proud."

"Don't talk rot," Tristan snapped, "You had the one you loved more than anything brutally snatched away from you, and you were still able to step up and care for your daughter. There's no doubt that Diana would be proud of you."

"Well...maybe. There's some things I've done that Di would yell at me for if she could see me— I'm sorry, we were talking about you and I just made this conversation about myself and my problems. My bad."

Just as Tristan shook his head and sucked in a breath before speaking, his train of thought was interrupted by a pair of familiar voices.

"Dad! DAD!"

Tristan couldn't repress a groan. The timing was impeccable, in a way that would prove to be very inconvenient for him. He hardly had an idea of what to say to his girls, or how to explain the true nature of their mother's illness, despite not knowing himself. He buried his face in his hands, and sighed, prompting Andy to use his free hand to rub his friend's back.

Mackenzie and Miriam emerged, running down the slope, down towards the entrance of their home, where their father stood waiting for them.

Tristan looked nothing short of tired, as if he'd been awake for many, many nights without so much as a wink of sleep. He stood hunched over, his movements slow and sluggish. "What's the matter, girls?"

Mackenzie's eyes wandered, searching for something. When she couldn't find what she was looking for, she made eye contact with her father. "Where's mom?"

Tristan and Andy exchanged glances. Andy nodded in his direction, silently communicating to Tristan that he should deliver the news. While trying to find a way to word the situation delicately, Tristan braced himself.

"Um, well, I..." He closed his eyes, repeating to himself like a mantra that as long as he remained calm, so would his daughters. He then opened his eyes, staring directly at the two rainbow faces before him. "Girls, your mother seems to be very ill. We don't know what she has, but right now, it's important that we stay calm. You mustn't panic."

Mackenzie's expression shifted suddenly, contorting into one of horror, horror of how her worst fear had been realized. She tried to speak, to cry, but nothing came out of her mouth. After a minute of silence, she managed, in a meek sounding voice, a question. "Mom's sick...?"

"But how?" Miriam's voice trembled as if she were about to cry, but she could hardly be bothered to withhold the stream of emotions gushing from her. "How can mom be sick? Isn't she the healthiest out of all of us?"

Tristan didn't have an answer for her. He was still coming to grips with this, himself. It was also entirely possible that this was just an episode, a one time experience, perhaps from a lack of a certain didn't know. All he knew was that whatever it was, he wanted it out of their lives as soon as possible.

Miriam and Mackenzie had been in such a rush to get home that they had left the others behind. Hence why Molly and Michael, along with their sons, were just appearing. Michael, used to always announcing his presence, did just that.

"Hey, Tristan!"

Tristan stared helplessly at his daughters before sighing and holding his head in his hands. "Great, now I'm hearing my deceased best friend's voice."

"No, you're not." Michael took Molly by the hand and began walking down the slope. "You're hearing your very much alive best friend's voice."

Tristan nearly tripped over his own two feet, while Andy was in complete disbelief.

"How...how can you be here?" Tristan asked, narrowing his eyes as he stuttered, "You were in an avalanche!"

Michael shrugged his shoulders and grinned carelessly. "And I survived the avalanche."

His mouth ajar, Tristan tried unsuccessfully to put the pieces together. "An entire mountain fell on top of you— oh, I've got to be dreaming. Mackenzie, Miriam, someone— please just wake me up."

"You're not dreaming, dad," said Mackenzie.

Andy walked up to Michael, his daughter nestled safely in his arms. "How did you survive?"

Michael straightened his posture, preparing to recite the tale of his epic adventure. "So, there I was—"

"No, no," Molly interrupted.

"But I—"

"Not here, not now. Come, don't you want to see Amelia?"

Michael's eyes sparkled like that of an eager hatchling's on Nibbling Day. "Oh, Amelia! I haven't seen her in so long! How is she, Tristan? Is she still able to tolerate you?" He suddenly stopped, having caught a whiff of a most unpleasant smell. "Oh!" When he found that the odor was coming from Tristan, he narrowed his eyes, his hands flying to cover his nose. "Tristan! That is vile!"

Tristan had begun to tire of explaining the same thing over and over, and simply stepped aside to reveal the female rainbow face, lying in her disheveled bed of grass and leaves.

Michael, having forgotten all about the stench, now wore a grave expression, having not expected to see her like that. Both he and Molly were speechless.

Mackenzie's heart sank to the very depths of her stomach. Nothing, nothing in the world could have prepared her to see her mother, the one whom she'd relied on for assurance, curled up and heaving with each harsh breath she drew in.

Miriam, numbed by shock, bent down over her mother, who was beginning to stir. Or at least, it appeared so. "Mom...?"

Amelia was unable to open her eyes, but mustered the strength to open her mouth and produce words. "T-Tristan..."

Admittedly, Miriam was a tad disappointed that her mother called for her father instead of her, especially with her being less than an inch away. However, when she thought about it logically, it made sense. Her father had likely been with her all day, and therefore, it was her mother's instinct to beckon him over.

Tristan resumed his position at his wife's side. He lowered his head, speaking softly so as not to disturb her somewhat relaxed state of mind. "Yes, Amelia? What is it? Do you need anything?"

Amelia, her eyes clamped tightly shut, shook her head. Molly permit herself a smile, for the fact that her friend was responding, albeit not in the usual way, was a good sign.

Tristan tilted his head, amber eyes filled with a gentleness none of them had ever seen present in him before. "Then, what's the matter? Are you hurting somewhere?"

Once again, Amelia shook her head. Then, she licked her lips, gasping for breath before making an attempt to speak. "I...Is...so..."

Her voice began to trail off, but he urged her to continue. In an attempt to keep her awake, he nudged her with his snout. "Come on, what is it? Don't sleep. What do you have to tell me?"

Amelia huffed to catch the breath she'd momentarily lost. Once she had, she summoned the vocal strength to speak coherently. "Is somebody ill? Is that why everyone's so quiet? Where—where are the girls?"

Tristan's heart broke in two. There was something so unbelievably tragic and sad about her suddenly being aware of the unspoken threat. It would only be a matter of time before she realized that the threat was being posed to her. He sighed inwardly, licking her cheek before answering her inquiries. "Yes, somebody is ill, and that's why we're all quiet. We don't want to disturb their sleep. And the girls are right next to you, don't worry."

"Hi, mom," Miriam murmured, resting her head upon her mother's tail.

Amelia went silent, the sound of her labored breathing filling the cave. "...Am I ill?"

"Yes," Tristan responded, making his voice perfectly clear, "You are ill. But it's alright, you can go back to sleep. I'm sorry for waking you."

"Is it really alright if I go back to sleep? I'm so tired..."

"Of course it's alright. As long as you promise you'll wake up again when we need you to."

Amelia sleepily nodded her head, her body going still moments later, accompanied by the slow rise and fall of her chest. After the rainbow face had fallen unconscious for what must have been the third time, all hell broke lose.

"What's wrong with mom?!" Miriam cried out, tears streaming from her eyes as she clenched her fists.

"I don't know, sweetie. But it'll be fine," said Tristan, trying to reassure her, but to no avail.

"Did you even tell Kyra yet?"

"Kyra has her own life to live. We can't just—"

"But I thought she was a healer? She can heal mom!"

"It's really not that simple. Please, Miriam, I'm trying my best to be rational here."

"Forget that," interfered Michael, "What is that funky smell you're covered in?"

Tristan raised his shoulders slightly before lowering them. "You don't want to know. Besides, is that really what's important to you right now?"

"No...I was just curious. But we can drop it if you want, no problem."

"Thank you." He turned to his daughters, a sense of urgency coursing through his body. "Fine. You two, go get Kyra. Explain to her that there's something wrong with your mother and that she needs to come quickly."

Kyra's feet dangled freely above the ground as she kicked them back and forth. She had no fear of falling, for she could always rely on her wings to catch her if she ever did lose her balance. As she looked up at the puffy pink clouds moving across the sky at their own pace, she couldn't quite pinpoint why she felt so dejected and sad. She had everything: a pleasant home, kind friends, and a charming flyer who loved her more than life itself. Deep down, she knew why.

Kiara. She'd never been able to fully accept the death of her closest and oldest friend. It was even harder now, with her living in this paradise, a paradise that Kiara would have loved, as would the rest of them that never got to see the light of another day. She wished that they'd all never ventured out when they did. Perhaps, things would be different.

No use in dwelling on it now, she reminded herself. What was done was done. What she could do now was live in their honor. Live how Kiara would have wanted her to live.

She outstretched her arms, lying with her back against the earth. She blinked a few times before sitting up, her hands in her lap.

A screech sounded through the air, and Kyra looked up to see Pterano swooping down, making a gentle landing. She smiled sweetly at the other flyer, patting the empty space next to her.

Pterano accepted the generous offer, holding a bundle of juicy sweet bubbles as he took a seat. "Hello, dearest. I've brought us some sweet bubbles. Sorry for keeping you so long, getting away from my nieces and nephews proved to be, uh, quite a chore." He chuckled, setting the fruit down in between him and the other.

"It's fine," Kyra said, shaking her head and giggling as she popped a purple sweet bubble into her mouth. "Better late than never, right?"

Pterano nodded his head. "That's right."

Kyra reverted her gaze back to the horizon, where a distant group of flyers could be seen flying off into the golden skies. As Pterano glanced at her, he could tell something else was weighing on her mind. Moreover, he knew exactly what.

"Kyra, you know that Kiara, Randy, and the others will always be with you."

"I know," Kyra said with a sigh, "But it just seems so unfair, especially on days like these."

"I understand. It is quite unjust, but..."

"It is what it is," Kyra finished for him. She peered into his eyes, a smile dancing across her bittersweet features.

Pterano reciprocated the smile, and clasped her hand. "Precisely, my dear. And I say, you're already doing well by them. You're living your life the way you always wanted. I doubt I can say the same for Rinkus and Sierra, however."

Kyra looked at him with an aura of confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You know the tale of the stone, don't you? And how the demise of Alex and Danielle sent them both off the deep end?"

"Well, yes, but Pterano— you thought you lost me as well, and you never acted the way they did."

"Maybe not, but I still did things I'm ashamed of to this very day. I was lucky to have found you. And Sierra and Rinkus…they're fortunate to have each other, although I know that Rinkus doesn't need Sierra. Sierra, on the other hand, needs him."

"Kyra!"

Kyra never got a chance to respond to Pterano, for the familiar voice of two young rainbow faces quickly grabbed her attention. She and Pterano glanced at each other, making the decision to fly down and investigate. So, with that, Kyra took to the air and swooped down to the foot of the cavern, where Mackenzie and Miriam were waiting.

She landed on her feet, keeping her wings spread out in case she needed to take off again. "What's wrong, girls?"

"Sorry to bother you, Kyra," began Mackenzie, "But our mom needs your help. She's really sick."

"Sicker than I get sometimes," Miriam said, adding on.

Kyra tapped her chin, thinking intently. "Hm...is she conscious? Does she respond when you call her name?"

"Um...sometimes. She responds to our dad, mostly."

Pterano placed his hands on the yellow flyer's shoulders. "Kyra, dear, it sounds serious. You should go take a look at her, just to see what you can do."

Kyra nibbled one of her talons nervously. "Are you sure it's alright?"

"It's up to you, love. So long as you think it's alright."

Kyra let go of the talon that had previously been in her mouth. She clenched her hand into a tight fist, furrowing her brows, an aura of resolute determination surrounding her. "Take me to her."

Thus, Kyra followed the duo across the Great Valley, the flapping of her wings giving her the appearance of a yellow blur operating at hyper speed. Miriam and Mackenzie darted through the grass, going just the right pace for Kyra to keep up.

When they arrived, Kyra took a moment to catch her breath before going inside. Once she was able to breathe normally, she went ahead.

She'd observed her mother more than enough times to know when an illness was of a more grave and serious sort. She could tell by the solemn expressions of everyone present that this was no ordinary illness.

Requesting everyone to step back, Kyra crouched down beside Amelia, bringing two fingers to her neck. She waited until she felt the pulsating of the blood in her veins, which was oddly faint. Intrigued, she tried to establish contact to see if she could elicit a response.

"Amelia? Amelia, can you hear me?"

After receiving no response, Kyra continued to examine her, checking every area of Amelia's body. At last, she arrived at a conclusion.

"She has an infection, basically, complications from an untreated injury she may have."

Tristan rose to his feet, shuffling towards the flyer. "How serious is it? Is it really bad?"

Kyra couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye and tell him about the deadly nature of his mate's illness. She could never understand how her mother did it. If she could even be half of the healer that her mother was, that in itself would be a miracle.

Her silence made the answer painfully apparent, but Tristan pressed on anyway. He wanted to hear it for himself. "Kyra, did you hear me? I asked you a question. How bad is it?"

Kyra winced, mentally preparing herself for the backlash she knew she was vulnerable to receiving. One of the many things that her mother taught her was that oftentimes, when others disliked the message, they would blame the messenger. It was also one of the many reasons why she was so reluctant to take up healing as a duty.

She breathed in, and then out as her eyes fluttered open. "In most cases...it can be fatal."

Truthfully, Tristan had expected that answer. Regardless, it still hit him like a ton of rocks. He was far from a strong fighter, but he was ready to fight in order to protect his family. Sadly, sickness was the one thing he couldn't fight off. He couldn't reach inside of his wife and extract the sickness from her.

After a long pause, he swallowed the thick and bitter tasting lump in his throat. "Are you sure? It can't be anything else?"

"I'm sure," Kyra said, nodding, "She was already susceptible, anyway. I mean, look at all those gashes."

"So, she's going to die, then?"

"I didn't say that."

"Is there a cure?"

"Yes, but it would take days for you to find it and come back. Look, I'll try to find something to help her feel better, but the best thing for her right now is lots of rest, along with plenty of food and water."

Molly and Michael shared a sideways glance. They worried for their friend, whom they'd rarely seen so vulnerable.

Tristan intertwined his fingers together, twiddling his thumbs as his eyes roamed uneasily. Kyra patted his shoulder, telling him not to worry before flying off to find some herbs for Amelia.

Molly looked down at her sons, and gently ushered them both forward. "Adam, Gabriel, go wait for us at home. We'll join you in a little bit."

"Okay, mom," said Adam, taking a second to wrap his arms around Miriam and Mackenzie before padding outside with his brother, who gazed at the sad sight in front of him one last time.

Molly took Tristan's hand, softly uttering his name to get his attention. Once she had, she smiled. "Listen to me, it's going to be alright. Whatever happens, we'll always be here for you."

"Mhm," said Michael, "Speaking of which, why don't you freshen up and relax for a little bit? We'll take care of things here until you get back."

"But what about Gabriel and Adam?"

"They can take care of themselves until we get back home, they're not hatchlings anymore, and Amelia needs us more than they do. Come on, Tristan, I really feel like this would help you. If not for yourself, do it for Amelia. She needs you at your best so you can take care of her."

Whether or not Tristan wanted to take some time for himself wasn't up to him, as he ended up being forced out of his own home. As soon as he was outside and under the cover of the night sky, he figured that it wouldn't hurt him to kick back for a short while. After all, if he were to effectively care for his family, he needed to take care of himself first, before anything else.

Soaking his scales in a small tide pool, Tristan watched as the filth washed off of him, as if he were molting. The water was cool, and with a quiet valley, the entire environment was soothingly peaceful. Quietly, he peered at his reflection, staring back at him with a look of utter exhaustion.

Once again, he buried his face in his hands, sobbing. He dipped his head in the water, allowing the moisture to give his face the appearance of being wet from the pool, rather than from his tears. When he resurfaced, his face, illuminated by the cool, luminescent light of the great night circle, was dripping with water. His eyes wide, he steadily gasped for air.

Floating above the water, he gazed at clusters of stars scattered across the sky. In his desperation, he pleaded and prayed to the creators to spare his mate's life. If anyone were to overcome such a terrible disease, it should be Amelia. She was so sweet, so kind, and so lovable. He couldn't think of anyone more deserving of life than her.

It was in that very moment during which he'd made a decision — to find out what the cure was, retrieve it, and bring it back so that Amelia would be healed. His family wasn't perfect, but they weren't worthless. They were deserving of a happy life, and Tristan would be damned if they weren't going to get one.

So we finally get to see how others react to all this. Not only do we have Orri planning to break in, but the life of one of the residents is at stake. Will Tristan find the cure in time, and will Amelia get better? Stay tuned to find out, and as usual, please review and have a great week! :)