Bearclaw Valley Your name on my lips, tongue tied

Indra didn't know what to make of this stranger now that they'd conversed at length. It couldn't be a ghost; but it couldn't be someone who understood the people here, either. Maybe this lady didn't know the one-eyed man or the kind woman with the medicines, or the dark boy who brought rabbits.
The girl was uncertain about her answer. On one hand yes, she wanted her freedom, she wanted to participate in something beyond the idle conversations that the strangers brought to her - but on the other, if this was a trick or a test, Indra needed to know for certain before she could make up her mind. She didn't want to be in trouble; she didn't think of herself as being a damsel in distress (despite the obvious), and neither did she want to disappoint a potential friend.
I'll go, she agreed, cautious and nervous and all manner of disjointed. —but I dunno how to do it, they... they bring me food, I don't go get it myself.
The seven-month-old was as sheltered as one could imagine a captive audience to be.