Broken Antler Fen no dark sarcasm in the classroom

odd, was her surprise and her abashed words, leading the woman to think that she was not thanked often. there was something about the woman, she realized, something comparable to a ghost. a lightness of step and manner, of being there, and yet, not. perhpas, she thought, her scars did not, as hers had, come from battles fought and fights picked, but instead, from something...darker. for the longer she listened to the woman speak, the ghostly healer, the less she might imagine the woman seeking battle, and from battle scars. which meant, ultimatly, that her scars were gained in another manner, one which she may not even guess at. 

it was quickly and efficiently that she removed the barbs from her paw, each sting of pain ignored as she watched the healer, and when she finished, carefully lowering her paw once more onto the numbing snow, listening raptly as she spoke, stance drained of the usual haughty coldness it had once contained. 

and then, she realized, the woman was staring. her optics were that of earth, rich and dark against her pelt, as apposed to her own of bleached moonlight. she said nothing, wondering what about her, exactly, the woman found quite so interesting. it was as the close distance that she was the the woman's thoughts returned to those pryor, of the ghost that this woman seemed to imbue. 

the moment of stillness was broken when the woman scuttled backward, an apology falling from her lips, her stance mirroring that of a startled doe, eyes darting to the wood. she could have simply bade the woman goodbye, and yet, she did not. Perhaps it was her interest in the woman, perhaps it was the realization that Liri could be of use to her, or something else entirely. 

"will you teach me?" the question fell from her lips softer than she expected it to be, perhaps humbled in the prescence of the phantom. "of healing." she clarified a moment later. for she had hurt before, the wraith, and perhaps she could bring right by ways of healing.