Firestone Hot Springs he’s still leading me for

Shorn head gave a pale nod;
the vaguery with which she knew now seemed ever-present within Aeryn (as she so believed)  was not, supposedly, unlike her own. And yet it was so very profound; so reaching into the depths of him that he seemed entirely unable to meet her in the midst of said chasm of mem'ry. Frostlight ears swept back; halfsight melting to a tempered and argent warmth.  "You,"  the fée wisps.  "You were ... a part of a litter. You were Aeryn."  Blushed nose scuffing delicate the down of her own wrist:  "And I ... I was Aurëwen."

Nevermore.
Was it so with him?

Herbalist she might be, the silver cannot yet smell his sickness through this sulfur. Like most, she has seen much in her life; and at present she sees before her the unraveling wonderment of a boy with past unknowable. She did not wish to agitate him further — but for now, she remained silent, sighless.