the rock had cut her shallowly, once, twice. she huffs, only imagining casting a spell to get revenge on the uncaring, tight and cold tunnel, especially since her mind found focus in something far more worthy of it- the way was expanding minutely, her horns being hit and pressed less and less... "we're reaching the end of this dreadful part of the tunnel." she murmurs it, knowing they'd all still hear with the taut quarters. ... to stand again was marvel, pulling in a breath like it her first, tugging a final time on the sum of silk strands in her hand before dropping them, coming to her father who was bundled in silk just enough to safely be dragged behind, his eyes faintly open and the expression could only be described as a silent, somber, 'why?' she undoes the wrappings as the little shade- cased in shell -the one dubbed moss hurried beside. as per she intended, father was not harmed by the trek.

He lays still, too weak to fight as he’s handled like a doll. his eyes project his general annoyance at everything, the rocks, the silk, the hunger,hornet, moss, everything. Moss, the small and ever curious child they are, has taken an interest in hornets items, nibbling her bag and poking her needles . Their little hands grasping her cloak and her bag when she moves a little bit too fast for the young shadow.