Shadowwyn Moor he beseeched him lay a hand upon fever-hot brow

Sif gave a gentle wag of her tail when the other turned around and spoke a quiet greeting. A beat of silence, and then a soft breath of understanding. "I am - well," she replied, stumbling a bit over the words. At least they made sense, this time. "How are you?" Yes! Nailed it!

Keen, burgundy eyes observed the woman's stance, and then Sif settled on her haunches and did her best to copy it. Fen had taught her comportment through mimmickry, and she did not understand that her mirroring might not be well received in other situations.