Wheeling Gull Isle Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago

The rain cut across her scarred countenance, tears that stung as they swept across her cheeks, her lips. But his words sliced sharper, stabbed deeper. 

Whatever companionship she had found in him was gone - in its place, the hard glint of hatred she'd first seen in his glance. It was harsher this time, or maybe it only seemed so since she had known his warmth, seething with cold venom as he turned from her. 

She was left in the rain, wondering what she had done wrong. 

With a thick swallow, the Lady turned back to the slain sea-tusk and her duties. She'd chased after him once; she'd not do so again. 

She dared not express pain at his coldness, nor did she allow the rattle of anxiety trembling in her chest to take over. The girl returned to Connor, spine straight and head raised proudly with every drop of royal, noble blood coursing in her veins. 

She was a Veltigar, and Veltigars did not fall to pieces when they were hurt - especially not this one. 

"Where are you hurt?" Came the low, collected question as she halted by her recruit - unable to pinpoint his injuries in the rain. She sent Lokie a nod as he appeared, answering with a soft, "Aye, eat what ye will. Make it easier to move anyhow."

She had no appetite herself; she desired only to tend to Connor and move as much meat as she could to the caches, so that she might seek out @Daegon and forget what had transpired along the shores.