Barrow Fields i don't fly around your fire anymore

A... ambush? What? To say that Aure was confused is an understatement in itself: she was properly baffled, more than simply taken aback. She was absolutely flummoxed. Her slim brows creased over as-big-and-bright-as-full-moon eyes, unable to help but stare. "Wh-... what?" Her graceful neck curved back, bottom lip quivering as she tried to comprehend why the Rusalkan regina thought— how?—

No doubt because Caphias was of the enemy, the dark helm of it all; but not to Aure. Not when they were on neutral ground besides. She may have been a part of Dragda's ranks, but... she had yet since to add her inclusion in the words "our", "them", and "Drakru" above all. If there was anything she understood, it was the fact that she would have to spend the better part of her years vying her worth to them; at least, that was how she believed in her own mind, lest it be changed then and there. Aure understood she... served no true contribution to heda's people. As such, she deemed herself trivial, no matter how much she cherished them or her cheka. 

She was undeserving of them. She simply beheld a mere penchant for healing and being a luna-tic. It was the truth, to her. The last thing she knew the Drakru would do would be to follow her lead—a spineless skayona!—and trail her into an ambush. The thought was utterly ridiculous to her, and bordered on the hysterical in her worn-out mind. For a moment, the Aure-who-once-wandered within her returned, and she, for a moment, wanted Caphias to take her throat up between those powerful jaws.

She almost entreated her to do it. Instead, a quiet "Why..." flit from her lungs. It started as a wry, gentle laugh; as bright as moonlight and as worn as its surface. But her expression phased into one of despondancy, before shifting into inscrutibility. But some of her particular amusement lingered, at the corners of her eyes, her lips. "Why in ze world would you be ambushed? Huh," she gave a meek huff, ears flickering back before she veered away to scavenge at a mound nearby; still within talking distance, she hoped. "Nobody would dare to do so on neutral ground, much less follow an order of mine. I am a mere herbalist, regina."