((Glad to oblige. Here's an end I'd choose for Bleu)) Bleunienn knew the druids at Starfall Village had been worrying since she had buried her last frostsabre six months before. They worried not because she had laid another companion to rest, but because she had not sought out a new one. She hunted no longer, rarely left her cottage, except on starlit nights when the wind was quiet in the pines. Then, sometimes, she would step out the door, little more than a violet shadow in the moonlight, footprints in the snow. Are you ill, huntress? he asked. No, she said. But I am old.