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Death wasn't something Æsilfír was willing to submit to, so he wasn't wrong. But she wasn't wise enough to reckon with her own mortality and thus, did not like the idea of dying on a battlefield simply because she did not want to die, ever. She probably looked simultaneously flattered and unimpressed with the definition of the word, which she accepted with a vague nod. It wasn't likely she'd remember it. 

Something about him rolling over onto his back and exposing his stomach made her feel uncomfortable. You could mortally wound him right now. The thought was eerily invasive but not firm enough to jolt her into action. She was a cobra, head arched and hood flared- but temporarily, she was charmed. She slid to the ground beside him, flexing her toes as she pushed the little bones away, flicking one foot as one poked her toepad. The bed of bones was about as uncomfortable as she imagined it to be- but if this was the bed she was to make for herself, she'd have to get used to lying in it, too. 

There was something oddly seductive about the way he shook the bonepowder from his shoulders. She swallowed. He spoke of his children- did that mean he wanted more? Was he hinting at something?- admitting that there were three others, as well, that were apparently still alive. His son, obviously, was his golden child. She smirked. "Well, as I said. Ye'll have little ones runnin' around again come summer. An' if there h'ennything like their father or...Greatfadder? Glamfadder, that was it- they'll be owned by the bear as well. Make ye right proud." She expected whatever Merrick and his one, merited son had would likely trickle down, if they were being raised in the presence of both. Something about giving him compliments made the fur along her spine prickle. More invasive thoughts loomed, just over her shoulder.

His next comment made her chuckle. Now he was fishing for intimate details- or so she thought. "Nah. Never had a mate." Ironically, she found it odd that he'd make the mistake of calling her a "widower" rather than a "widow," having never heard the term "winnower" before. She didn't correct him (which was likely her only saving grace) and continued on. "Wouldn't matter I s'pose. I dun even know if my family's dead. Dunno what happened, exactly. Bet of a mystery I guess." She explained, with a shrug.