Weir, oh weir has my little dog gone; oh WEIR oh weir could it be!

[Kimber]

let me tell you something baby,
you love me for everything you hate me for
She is at unrest, she has been all winter and the little time she does sleep she dreams of things that seem both all too real albeit impossible. Like every other night, she begins to sweat heavily, it's thick and lathering on her dip-dyed pelt as she raises herself from the ground - the visions are something that she cannot bring herself to forget. Warship. Prague. Weir. Her. It was consuming her, night after night, and day after day the weight of her current pregnancy was taking an entirely different toll. She had stepped into the Jungle to try to find the house magician with no luck, Warship was dead so that only left Weir to fill in the gaps.

Swiftly her wings carry her beyond the burning tree, through the valley's and mountainsides to reach the entrance of the Dale - her eyes glossy and red, lack of sleep and yet; seemingly asleep now. She lands towards the borders, she knows that there is no alliance between them and considering she's a dark thing going 'bump' in the night she may not be greeted with a warm, welcome smile. She must know though what these dreams are about, surely the magic bender would know something so she doesn't hesitate. "Weir? It's Kimber...from the Chamber, I was close to War-..." she stops, unable to even speak his name now, the dead aren't anything to speak on regularly she had learned. She has to tell someone about her dreams, in actuality it's a nightmare but the bold mare was fearful of very little. She wanted someone who may be able to explain why her conscious was being so cruel to her.