Question asked, the nymph said nothing more, and spent no time trying to understand a human’s thoughts or emotions through expression. She’d never learned the art of human communication, had only learned the language of the spirits recently from the wind. Tears could not sway her. Anger could not reach her. Reason or blade or fire were how she knew humans best, so, she waited for words or that sword to lift. Either was expected, neither would go without consideration, though one would, admittedly, earn far more reaction than the other.

Patience, among spirits, was not a virtue, it was a simple trait that could be as troublesome for the humans that dealt with it as it was intuitive for nature. They could rush or they could wait, time was a human concept. 

At the least, in this instance, it meant Samaire was free to recover her poise (inasmuch as she was able) without prompting or annoyance. Though the nymph’s stare never wavered, neither did her interest in the answer. So, when it finally came, as jumbled as might be expected of a human’s clumsy tongue, she listened. Beside her, Matiir lay still, head on his arm, eyes rolled upwards to watch the distress on the human who had kept him and fed him. He did not know enough to be glad of her tears. He would not have understood why he should be, besides, salt water was not for drinking, and every other human who made such noises only brought trouble for him.

When she finally spoke again, still in the language he understood, the youth raised his head and grumbled in the back of his throat. His understanding was instinct, not knowledge, so he could not piece together her scattered words as well as the nymph did, though she did not know the words that came next any more than he did. And together, they studied the human’s desperation as her voice lost all hesitation and became emotion. Enough, without known words, to resonate even with the nymph, whose head tilted slowly, before she nodded. Decision made.

[i]<When you leave, little human, these chains will remain to rust.>[/i] She would be sure of it. [i]<The wilds should not be bound. I will give you this one favour for your tale.>[/i] Even as she spoke, she was fading, back into the trees that shaped her being, but Samaire’s words had worried her, and Matiir’s distant recognition of trouble, even if he wasn’t sure which she meant, whether from before or after they’d met, it was enough to tell her things were moving where they shouldn’t. So, the wind and the leaves still shaped her words even after she was gone. [i]<Family shares blood among his own, offer him the same and you will need no chains.>[/i]

But she would not be leaving with the metal ones she and Matiir had carried between them until now, even had she felt no obligation to obey the nymph’s order. As she’d sunk into the tree around which the chain had been wrapped, so too did the chain, disappearing beneath the bark. If Samaire wanted to bring the man-thing with her, she would either have to let him loose, or carve through the trunk.

Matiir, for whom nothing had changed, merely fell onto his side with a huff of disappointment. Trees were better company than humans.