Whitefish River keep your head up

Well, that was odd. It was like the girl had been physically struck, looking down and away from her hawk-eyed stare. Varinril did not know what to think, concern flooding her. As observant as she was, she could not fathom Saarthal's sudden shift in mood. One second she was smiling and the next this. She blinks several times, trying to make sense of the what happened. What could trigger this, whatever this was?

In afterthought, she felt bad for thinking Saarthal cared naught for her. Always so quick to judge. Stupid idiot. To hear her brazenly declare undoing any who harmed their group was heartening, but also filled her with dread. Varinril was not experienced in battle at all. However, she knows how hairy it can get, how fast it can go downhill. She doesn't want that for any of them, not even Mallaidh, who has proven to be adept in that field. What was she to do, surrounded by wolves swearing themselves to protect? She was coming to the steady conclusion that...she would likely have to take up the sword, as well. It was only fair!

The girl speaks up again, heartbreakingly conquered in a way Varinril does not want to behold. She has done something - spoke a phrase, took a tone maybe? - that has left her companion bereft. Varinril sets her sights elsewhere, craning her head away. So long as Saarthal cannot stare so openly at her, or the unease marbled across her face. Her sights settle upon Ravensblood Forest as she speaks, her tone neutral despite her inner tumult.

"Would you like to go hunting with me?" The conversation started off jovial enough. Varinril wanted to veer back into that, if at all possible. Besides, she did not much care for the girl's love interest, if only because she was wary of that "depends." Varinril was a fool in many things, conversation not one of them. "I've tracked a deer to here, but I think he crossed this river. Should we try our luck elsewhere?"