Deiva looked up. It was the healer woman from the tavern. She was crouched down beside her, looking slightly concerned. Oh no. [i]Her hood hadn't fallen off had it?[/i] Checking herself, she was relieved to find that it was still securely on her head, fastened with the golden clasp at her throat. Good. So then, why was the woman looking like that? Her head was outstretched, colourful scarves floating around her in the slight breeze. Her accent was the same as Deiva's own, and the warm scent of spices hung in the air around her.

Deiva looked suspiciously at her outstretched hand before getting up on her own, wiping her hands on her dress. [i]What was her game? What did she want?[/i] If there's one thing she knew, it's that someone always wanted something from you.