Firefly Glen because you feel like a heartbeat

The woman turned as he spoke, drifting back to the abandoned pelt and forgotten leaves, eyes downcast demurely and a vulnerable curve to her frail build. 

Slowly, Awen gathered the raspberry leaves, piling them upon the wrap. Her wispy ears cupped in Memory's direction, bouncing as they twitched with attentiveness. A fond smile was turned in his direction as the warrior mentioned his mother. 

At the next string of words, however, the mirthful expression faltered and her head ducked once more as adrenaline rushed through her nauseatingly. A silent gulp bobbed in her throat as the smile slipped slightly, appearing more forced now. 

Did he imagine it would impress the gentle druid? Or was it truly said so nonchalantly, this proclamation of violence? 

"Is zat 'ow zis 'appened?" The waif dared to whisper, glancing towards him apprehensively. Was she healing the last terrified struggles of some victim? 

As if suddenly remembering herself, or rather her place, the broken healer hunched submissively. Slender muzzle dipping ever down, icy crown bowed as fae optics clung to his forelegs - watching for some oncoming threat. 

"I'm sorry," she murmured, soft as silk, "me tongue got away from me." 

What was she thinking? Asking a man such a thing, especially one who had identified himself as an assassin. 

A horrible thought struck her then. 

"Did 'e send ye?" the horrid lilt wisped from her tongue, hollow and haunted. Had it been a ruse? Some cruel trick to lower her guard, make it easy to carve out a few pieces for Aliroth?