Blacktail Deer Plateau there's a voice that pulls me stumbling through a symphony

Words, cool and and level despite his fatigue, rippled from the cavalier behind her, damningly evident. In her aghast manner, Aure might’ve sworn at him— instead, though, she hastened to the setting where she’d left them last. Had been just about to kneel down, scent, when another voice, masculine, tentative, broke the terse silence: ‘Are you two... okay?’

Another phrase of evidence, but an enquiry; one that the silver whirled about at, shivering, eyes still unseeing, “N-no. No. My children have gone—” are gone, for I was harebrained, again! Always again! “A guard, I left them with someone to guard them,” — Ești idiotule! — “when I went to protect them. They must have... they... green eyes, grey eyes, I—“

Aure could feel her descent into a hen’s hysterics in hindsight; a parent’s endless, resentful regret; and it was all she could do to draw in a rattling, steadying breath  (barely so)  and look upon this sorrel newcomer with an uneasy gaze. “You wouldn’t have seen them, by any chance? ...What might your name be?” Her ribs remained untended, unfelt.