Hideaway Strath you were never meant to be a tragedy

me too!

"Many things are often like zat," the midwife lilted with a hint of weariness, her sallow smile knowing and all too ancient for a woman who had just reached her prime. Aerin was a magpie of thin scars and half-mended wounds, a patchwork quilt of angry reds, pinks, and ashen whites -- she knew all too well what it felt like to carry around ghosts, if not skulls. She straightened as he did, lifting her head off him and allowing her expression to soften (if only a tad), the curve of her lips imbued with sincerity as she banished the brief bout of angst.

Her moonlight gaze trailed to the cave at his query, vaguely apprehensive as she considered. Though her ministrations had been intended to calm Vein's worries, she found her own malaise had abated as she groomed him -- which was perhaps owed to the fact that she was a healer, maybe focusing on someone else was all it took to calm the Saluki. Either way, she turned back to Vein with a nervous smile. "I promised I vould 'elp ye find a 'ot spring. An' I must admit, I am curious to know more about this tea ye speak of." 

"We should look. We 'ave already come this far," she pointed out as she stood, shaking loose the snow that had gathered on her ivory pelt and then gave him a bashful grin, realizing she'd never introduced herself after hearing him trail off uncertainly. "I'm Aerin."