Totoka River you speak in sonatas going to smithereens

Thuringwethil’s attention is on Elohim as Asherah’s face changes and turns away so she can’t see anyway. The question puts a smile on her face and she offers a chuckle. “Not when it is so cold,” she tells him with a quirk of her eyebrow. “But when the water is warm enough.”

When Asherah speaks again, asking of her home, Thuringwethil’s ears twitch and stand alert. “Drageda. If you follow the shore, you will find it,” she answers, though for invitation or warning, her tone is flat. It is only when the mother explains their misfortune, their adventure, that Thuringwethil is able to note the origin of the tension. The name is unfamiliar to her but it becomes irrelevant when it’s explain there is nothing left of what may very well have been harmony once upon a time.

She is silent as the conversation becomes between mother and son, if only to appease the eager child. He speaks of home, and the end of their adventure, and remains in good spirits. How long does he have before that innocence is ruined? Her nose wrinkles but she glances away, toward Tirgatao, to shed the expression. “There is another park north of here, a little east. I met their leader the other day, as well as a small band further up shore, but I do not know much of them.” she says, this time a nod of warning as she turns back. “If you continue traveling this way, that is.”