This one was a little dramatic. Eva moved through the garden to where the mooncalf was curled up, staring sullenly at the moon itself. Frowning, Eva rather thought that, at first, glance, she looked alright, lonely certainly, but no other obvious health issues.

"Hi sweet girl," Eva knelt down and stroked the mooncalf down the nose and offered her a treat. "You don't look so bad, do you? A little malnourished perhaps, but nothing crazy. Whoever had you before this didn't know what they were doing did they?" Dymphna- as she was apparently named now- turned wide, doleful eyes up at Eva.

As she ran her hands over the mooncalf feeling for any internal injuries or wounds, Eva looked back at Miss Scrimgeour. "They can actually. I don't mean to be morbid, but some get so lonely that they stop eating and slowly waste away. Not all of them, but it has happened." Those ostracized from the herd for whatever reason, those who get lost. It wasn't common, but she knew it was possible.