Stavanger Bay tuniksimaruk ⦒

As Kukutux spoke, Reverie remembered —
And the effect on her was visceral; she shuddered as the woman spoke of blood, and flinched at the words the face of those we love. Rose; but not Rose, not her at all. Her expression darkened and turned tense with remembered anguish, ears lowering all the while. So Kukutux knew what had happened, then; she knew that Reverie had not been ready, had not been strong enough, and that through her weakness she had allowed this to pass.
Shame wrote itself into her bearing next, and she was hardly able to look at Kukutux, or even Lestan or Blossom. Reverie prickled with the knowledge that Kukutux knew, she knew simply by looking at her. And to send Lestan away — ! Unthinkable. She retreated back to his side and glued herself there as if afraid he might leave even now.
The herbs seemed safe enough, but she did not trust Kukutux entirely. What if it hurt, and Lestan was not there to help? What if it hurt Blossom? Reverie was beside herself, and made no attempt at response or interaction aside from a desolate gaze that darted between Kukutux and the herbs she had brought.