The frenetic energy in the air was now over, and Sularia was back to its usual self. Whatever mischief that strange magical rabbit had caused was amended without delay, and within the week it would be as if it had never occurred. Nerine was relieved that things had settled as soon as they did. However, there was a lingering doubt that the rabbit would vanish after being chased out. If it weren't for the magical disruptions it was causing, she would have liked to study the curious thing. She'd never seen such a specimen, and wondered where it had sprang from. Spending the evening catching up with her cousins and aunts took longer than usual. She missed seeing them everyday, even with their nosiness into her new life outside of Arri. Now she could walk the streets of the bazaar and through the rose gardens without becoming overwhelmed by painful memories. Instead, the good would rise to the surface as the unhappy ones were fading away. Maybe she had truly gotten over it for good. She had so many people to thank for that.

There was one last stop she needed to make before returning to Antikythera. Making a turn down a familiar street, she found the doorway she hadn't darkened in years. Her cousins had kept it tidy for her while she had been away, and left things as they were more or less. "It feels so strange standing here again. It's been years since I've said 'I'm home'." Her old house, before her life changed for the better. Unlocking the door, she took a deep breath before pushing herself inside. The warm light of a sunny, late afternoon was coming in through the kitchen windows. It was free of dust, but the air was stagnant. It hadn't been lived in for a long time. Three years ago she would have never thought of even coming near this place, but now she could say with confidence that she would be alright. The past was the past.

Even if time were to turn back again, she wouldn't give up the happiness she now had for anything in the world. She'd forgiven her cousins, her aunts, and her friends for not being so direct about it. Young and inexperienced, how selfish it was of her to be so blind to their attempts to help her move on. Even Celosia, who was as tactful as a blacksmith's hammer, had curbed her own impulsive tendencies to delicately avoid mentioning her former lover. She kept trying to find someone better for her, hoping it would heal her wounds quicker. Her cousin and her family couldn't bear to see her hurt. They must have been afraid that she would be a hair's breadth away from throwing herself into another hurtful situation again. 

Taking a chair, she sat down looking at the space where piles of papers and alchemical reagents used to be. This was where she had tried to take her own life through Eshari. The stinging smells of noxious extracts and essences were long gone, but she could still recall. As sentimental as it sounded, she could also remember how the person she owed her life to had appeared in the window uninvited, asking without reservation why she wished to end her life. Completely unexpected, such a direct question had pierced the veil of self–loathing and grief she had sunken into. It spoke to her, ignoring all else. No assumptions were made, no interpretations were applied to her situation. Plainly and simply, it compelled her to question why she thought so little of living. 

As she reminisced, there was a small scuttling that drew her attention. "What was that? It sounded like it was coming from over here." Going over to the small ordered row of potted plants on the veranda, she saw something moving in the leaves. Was it a mouse? That couldn't be. Celosia would've turned the entire house upside down just to catch it. Carefully moving aside some leaves with a long wooden spoon, she found a little ball of prickles rooting around the base of the dwarf fern. It turned to raise its little snout at her, and Nerine was surprised. "A hedgehog? How did you get all the way up here?" Climbing out of the pot, it padded over to her. There was something magical about this little one. There were little flowers blooming in its back, and its quills were more like thick spines of grass. In its mouth was a large grub, and the dirt on its paws likely meant it had been working to extract the pest before her arrival. Dropping the grub, it climbed into her hands and curled up. The flower buds on its back closed, and she could feel the creature's gentle breathing. 

"Have you been taking care of these plants for me? Thank you, little one." She carefully wrapped the little hedgehog in a soft cloth and nestled it into her bag. It would be her little secret for the time being. 

He woke up with something pecking his face. Scrunching up his nose, he shooed it away, returning to sleep. But just as he was almost halfway to dream-land, the pecking came back with a vengeance. Finally he was so fed up with the constant interruptions that he shot up and glared with bleary eyes. There was that annoying bird again, sitting at the foot of the bed looking with stubborn defiance in those beady little eyes. "Oh it's you." Auron hissed, and the little crimson bird chirped back. Hopping around on the silk sheets it flapped its wings making high-pitched squeaks while fluffing its feathers. The red-head returned the sentiment with a frown. 

This little feathered pest had been haranguing him day in and day out ever since the magic in the world started acting strange. If followed him everywhere he went, wouldn't leave him be, and kept doing things to draw attention to itself. And as time went on, it was growing more obstinate and intrusive. "What do you want?" The fiend leaned on his arm, giving the bird a disapproving look. The bird stood tall on its little legs and began chirping rather loudly, giving a string of sounds as it made itself heard. This little bird was the most noisy thing he had ever seen. Not even his owls were this attention-hungry. They were also nocturnal, so that would explain why they weren't bothering him often. When he was awake they were sound asleep. 

He knew enough about birds to know a general idea of what they were saying by their tone and actions. This little bugger really didn't like being ignored. It wasn't happy, judging by its quick flapping wings and ruffled body plumage. With its almost screechy chirping tone, Auron swore the bird was telling him off. "Yeah? Well what you want me to do about it? How do you expect people to want to notice you if you keep getting in their way day in and day out?" Yes, when he was alone he had a habit of talking to his pet birds. Birds were incredibly smart, and contrary to the epithet 'bird-brain', they did understand what you said to them. They had excellent memory, and recognized people even if they hadn't seen them in a long time.

The claret-red parakeet hopped up and down, chirping more. He raised an eyebrow. He wasn't going to pretend that he was a bird whisperer, and he absolutely had no idea what it was saying. It did appear to calm down when he was looking at it, so he continued keeping up the appearance of paying attention to it. This was one chatterbox of a bird.

After watching it for a while, it was less agitated. Hopping forward it took flight, and landed on his shoulder. Tweeting in his ear, it moved its head back and forth as if to check that it was being acknowledged. With a chuckle, he smirked at the feathered popinjay. "You're a downright bother, you know that? Fine, I'll pay more attention to you like you want. But–you'll need to stop making it hard for me when I'm working or washing up, understood? Or I'll ignore you." The bird cocked its head to the side, and looked as if it were thinking the agreement over. Then it gave a melodious chirp of four notes, sounding pleased with the deal.