Swiftcurrent Creek the difficulty of Sundays

She watches her set the herb down with ears perked, relief settling over her features as Ruenna speaks. Thank you, She murmurs, bending to take the root into her mouth immediately. The flavor is not what she'd describe as pleasant, but she doesn't mind; anything to relieve the nausea plaguing her. She chews slowly, uncertain whether she's meant to swallow the root or not.
Ruenna's questioning brings her pause, and she looks away, face flushing with heat as she registers her meaning. Immediately her eyes well with tears despite her best efforts. She closes her eyes, silent for a moment. Yes, Her confirmation is quiet, muffled by the chewed-up root still in her mouth, but the grief in her tone is still clear. She sucks in a breath through her nose and starts to chew again, still struggling against the tears now threatening to overwhelm her.