Lost Creek Hollow i'm floating down a river / oars freed from their holes long ago

When he told her to wait, she froze apprehensively. She thought she heard a note of apology in his tone. Larkspur didn't look at him directly, instead peering at a spot in the middle distance as her ears pricked atop her sandy crown. I'm listening, her body language said. Her face twitched when he apologized verbatim. Spur turned to look at him again, watching as he slumped to a sit.

She didn't move toward him, though Spur corrected the angle so she was fully facing him again. And I thought I was paranoid, she thought dryly. Aloud, she said, "Who are you? And who exactly did you think I was? A Blackthorn? What's a Blackthorn?" It sounded like a name, perhaps, but she tilted her head ever so slightly as she anticipated an explanation.