Larksong Grotto dreamer trapped by your desire

She's relieved by his response in a small way, but worry still nags at her quietly. At his next words, she nods, not recognizing the name (she'd fled before she could hear his introductions) but assuming he means the female who'd first confronted her; she remembers the pale woman's scent had spoken of motherhood.
I'm glad to hear it, She says, opening her mouth slightly to say more and finding herself pausing. After a beat she closes her mouth, and then she's silent; all at once she's reminded why she prefers her own company. She doesn't know what response he wants, or expects rather— she remembers it too, of course, but she doesn't see a point.