Bearclaw Valley like phony clothes, but i really like my

Her actions seemed to settle Astara, but only briefly; Phoebe missed the roll of discomfort that rippled through the dark matron, and even if she had been privy to seeing such she may have only presumed it was her presence that caused him. Even so, that emotion seemed to exude from her—her rising and approach towards Phoebe only amplified the deference she had towards her, and she turned away further.

At least, for a moment.

When she realized that the dark matron was rummaging through where she had been, she couldn’t help but turn back to watch her. Her gaze stole away to the burdening swell of the other woman, but she cast it further away just as swiftly over the tree and its secrets. A chord of tension seemed to wrap itself around her neck then, only for the songbird to realize that she was holding her own breath; it escaped her noisily, unfortunately.

“I was hoping to find mushrooms,” she explained, not quite realizing that Astara’s silence was not one of choice. “Have you seen any? Some of them are helpful, others not so much, but I wanted to know what we have.” It went hand in hand with all she wanted to do to help, all she wanted to accomplish with what skills she had at hand.