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In the end, as the apples began to fall from the trees onto the carpet of already-shed leaves, she had sent Raven Talker to do her bidding, reluctant to leave Hunter and Lorekeeper after making such a weighty decision. The doe had left the next day, with one of her crows perched on her shoulder, to go find a mare willing to lend her gifts to such a thing.

(From the way Raven had talked about it, she didn't think there would be anyone -- but she was a pessimist, and All She Surveys had held out hope that a legendary would see the wisdom in wanting to preserve a tribe when there were few other recourses available.)

Several days later Raven Talker would skid down a slope and land, jarringly, on the mudflat that served as the border between ocean and swamp. She looked out of place; she felt out of place, and her steps slowed as she considered just what to do. The language of the birds here -- sea birds, all of them -- was not one she knew well enough to translate, and it made everything horrendously awkward.

On her shoulder, Listen let out a quork that adequately described the situation. Raven nodded in return.

Raven perked up a bit when the crane approached her -- though she shied back just a little bit when it got close. Meets-the-Sea would be able to read it perfectly: she desperately wanted to find a legendary, as it was the task she had been entrusted with -- but meeting one was another thing altogether. At least for someone as awkward and introverted as Raven herself. Listen, on the other hand, quorked again and then gave a hoarse chuckling caw! before cocking its head at the crane.

After a moment she ducked her head in what might've been a sort of deferential nod and then spoke. Her voice was startling: not demure at all, but direct and a little hoarse. "Are you one of the blessed ones?"

Raven took an involuntary step back at being called out by a crane -- a moment later she swallowed, steeling herself, unaware that the legendary in front of her would be able to read every nuance of her body language. Meets would thus be able to watch Raven Talker pull up the aura of mysticism and mystery she normally wore among those who weren't Lorekeeper, Hunter, or All She Surveys. "I seek a blessing, but not for me. For the one I serve, the leader of my tribe."

To betray her, as he always did, Listen gave a hoarse caw! and flew over to a branch just above the legendary, cocking a bright eye at her.

"As the crow flies, no," Raven said, maybe unbending just a little -- certainly enough to make a dumb pun in front of a creature so ethereal and blessed. "I can take you there. It won't be a hard journey; it's to the north." She tips her head, and then looks over her shoulder. "If you don't mind traveling, that is."

Either Raven's sense of humor does not extend so far that she can acknowledge Meets-the-Sea's joke, or else it just goes over her head, but she instead merely turns around and begins walking. The doe is quite petite and small-boned; it's amazing to think that she may have walked both ways, but there is a certain self-possessed, steely grace about her: she is maybe propelled by force of will. Behind her, Listen ruffles his feathers from where he sits perched high in a mangrove, screams one last goodbye to the beach, and flutters back to perch on one of Raven Talker's short, hard black horns.

She does not prove an entirely adept conversationalist along the way, except when the land begins to swell and undulate in rolling hills, when the mangroves turn to pine and apple trees and the air is thick with golden sunlight and the scent of honey and apples. Then, Raven perks up -- or maybe 'perk' is not the right word. It is like she draws the way she is supposed to act back around herself, so that she is once again a self-confident, self-possessed, mystical talker to birds.

They emerge into a small clearing where a thin stream burbles over round rocks: another small, petite doe stands at it, nervously pacing three short steps this way, there and back again. She is lovely, but her big brown eyes look worried -- until she sees the other doe, and the mare. Then she permits a quiet smile. Her voice is like honey .. and her stomach is just now beginning to show a subtle roundness: "I'm glad you came."

All She Surveys keeps smiling, but it is impossible to tell whether it is warm smile, flooded with relief, or the polite upturn of a mouth necessary when meeting another kin, especially a legendary. Perhaps it is a little of both. She holds herself so far removed from everyone, even including Raven Talker, that she does not even bat a long eyelash when the dark doe returns to stand patiently by her side. Raven Talker will still know, intrinsically, that she has done her friend a great boon, just by the way All She Surveys speaks, and the way she leans ever so slightly towards her friend.

"I sent her to find you," the pink-haired doe says, voice calm and slow. "I thought I would need your help -- my situation is a .. strange one, and I have heard that you are fair-minded."

All She Surveys opens her mouth to speak and actually pauses: looking as though she has not had time to rehearse what she is going to say, because the sudden torrent of emotion is too raw. Instead, she plunges bravely forward, meeting Meets' eyes with her big, limpid brown ones: "My lifemate -- is female. Those I carry belong to a friend since I cannot bear her children. I suspected some legendaries might have found this surprising."

She does not toss her hair back, does not fidget, does not give any pretense of being concerned or unsure, except for the intensity with which she regards Meets-the-Sea.

"Of course," the pink doe says, with a certain hoarseness in her voice that belies her relief. She is relieved, and now she will be able to tell Hunter and Lorekeeper that one of the things most important to her is indeed a blessing. "You have done enough simply by coming here."