Flycatcher Downs until we go down

my dad, mona had wanted to say, but the lush curves of the woman, her gentle eyes — these things brought rowan to mind. throat seized in a vice-grip, swallowing suddenly painful, the firebird glanced toward the ground and drew a long breath. "do ... do you know the name lasher?" came her timid voice.
there was such a bevy of reasons why the ivory-cream wolfess would blink and shake her head, or state she did not. there were far fewer reasons why she would respond with any understanding. 
but it was the latter upon which mona perched her small seed of hope, murkwater eyes searching the elegant beauty of the stranger's features.