Swiftcurrent Creek silver ribbons

Lestan didn't judge her at all; he didn't even seem surprised by her lack of knowledge. That was strange. So far it had seemed like everyone simply expected her to know these things, like there was something wrong with her because she didn't. And he just... treated her like she was normal.
He hadn't heard of the places she listed off, but nonetheless he identified them swiftly. They were packs. She wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but she was beginning to form a rough picture of it. Wolves who lived together, in one place. He confirmed what she had thought before, that they owned the land and apparently didn't tolerate visitors; that was weird to her, but at least she knew for sure now. None of it was surprising to her, except the last thing he said.
He wanted to know if she wanted to stay in Kvarsheim. And he wanted to know her name. It was kind, like everything about him, but it was also a problem.
She couldn't be Ophelia anymore. Ophelia was gone. Dead. Burned alive, right in front of her. No. No, that was Rose...
She wasn't dead, but she wasn't Ophelia. She was just the girl in the reverie.
Reverie, She said, before she could think too much about it. I... Kvarsheim is safe. There's a girl there, Bjarna. She helped me. But she doesn't say many things I can understand, and I never know if she understands me. I don't know if I'll be allowed to stay there for very long, but... I don't have anywhere else to go right now. There was home, but... no. Never.