Toil has loved, and he has lost.

His mate, his other half, was ripped from him in the very dust storm that brought him to the clan. He was never to learn of her fate, spending days and nights waiting desolately at the lookouts, watching for her silhouette on the horizon. And yet, even as he hoped against hope for her return, part of him knew he would never see Trouble again. He could feel it in his bones, feel the absence of her magic, a void the world would never fill, and moreover, that he could never fill.

He is still dealing with the loss of his fellow creature, the only other of his kind, and the only one to fully understand every part of his being. Slowly, surely, the pep in his step is returning. Viera is working to help him regain his confidence, his jovial nature, and become the spirit of mischief he once was.