Firefly Glen Shadows in my mind

Nyra presented herself well, and Jasmine was inclined to trust her. That stubborn streak still lingered, but the earthy girl uncurled herself a little more from her stiffened ball and appraised the stranger with a tight stare, in what little ways a child her age knew how.

She hadn't hurt her yet. And the colour of her voice was one she felt was pleasant, at least, to the mind.

But there was one thing that caught her off-guard, and Jasmine felt her fur prick along her spine. "Dying isn't good," she said, "my mom is dead. Why would you want to be known for that?"