Blackfeather Woods unintended worship

Shivali notes the patience in the other pale woman. The stranger must have been a mute for some time. Now, she’s compelled not to say anything for there are two barriers she’ll have to get over for them to properly understand one another. For now, she’ll try, but it will take time before she’ll get the hang of it. Her eyes follow back toward the den in question and she regards it for a moment. The den she is going to give birth in, she supposes, and turns back to nod she understand, then shakes her head. “I not go,” she assures her, only assuming the common tongue is, or was, her understanding.