Fox's Glade oh guard the pounding sound

mona had been unsure of how the other girl would receive her words; relief blossomed summerlight across her ruddy countenance at indra's rejoinder. "do ... do you want to talk about it?" she hedged, sensing there was a great deal more to the bearclaw yearling's brief responses, and then chiding herself for assuming such. they were still perfect strangers, mona reminded herself in rowan's prim voice; she must take care not to overstep. and yet her swampwater eyes shone with an interest, a concern she could not veil.