Here is what Fever knows: very little, when it comes to farms and ranches and tending growing things. Her skills lie in taking life, not tending it - be it in guardianship of another life, or striking out from some perceived justice, or simply acting because she can. All that great magical strength does nothing for it. The nurturing that's necessary to coax the earth to work with you, to ask the beasts of the land and sky to be alongside you to work and live, that's a skill that is stunted and twisted up inside of her. You cannot ask her to do something where every step feels like an injured muscle screaming as it's used.

Here is what she has slowly been finding out: one does not need to be a caretaker of all things to be a caretaker of their own. When hands reach out, hold them. When arms are open, open yours. When someone needs permission to not be okay, grant it. It's terribly simple, when people think it is so complex. So simple that it's easy to get tripped up in the warp and weft of it, thinking you need to do more and be more in order to be a friend. Even when it feels like a miracle that a friend is there at all, accept them. Radar chose to give her another chance, and for that mercy, Fever will not question him. All she needs do is show the gratitude for it, bit by bit, moment by moment.

She thinks, instead of verbally responding - pulls at the sound of forgiveness until it might resonate loud enough to override some of whatever he hears in his own mind. Whatever makes him think he needs to apologize for grief and uncertainty, for being mortal in the end. He was forgiven before he ever said it. He always will be. Fever holds him a little tighter, and hopes he can hear it through everything else.