The response, complicated and confused as it was, emerged heartfelt, and this the nymph could not ignore. Death held no great horror for her, but complete death, whole and hollow where not even the rotting log might nourish new growth was more staggering. A concern to catch her attention. Youth, however, meant she had her own whims, and the nymph settled, rooted down, beside the young man where he’d uncurled and now lay watching the woman weep with indifferent eyes.

To her, tears were as leaves. Simply replenished, and sometimes better shed. But she’d understood enough of the broken message to realize that the chain she held linked the human to hope. [i]<She mourns her family, mountain cat.>[/i] Did he care? His response affected hers. Because, in truth, she did not.

Matiir, however, raised his head again at the words, eyebrows drawing together in a confusion he did not realize he gave away. Family, familiar loss… She’d lost… Was lost?

Snorting, the youth shook himself loosely, licking his lips before glancing up at the walking tree and chirping. A strange, back of the throat mutter that emerged low and ended high. Red eyes lit by the wishlights until they glowed as well, wide and round and bright, reflecting the moon. A quiet whumpf of growled air escaped him in a language as simple as its message was complex, and the wind rose to hear it. But the nymph nodded despite her opinion, and turned back to Samaire, one hand idly tracing soothing lines along the scar seamed skin of Matiir’s back.

[i]<He would know if you look for another. A gift, human, you should not be given. But what use is fettered strength?>[/i]