Black Morass timor

She registered his words—she would have added her own spin to it—that after being suffocated her entire life, the quiet was a nice reprieve… even if temporary, but she didn’t wish to dwell on the topic of her upbringing.

Not until she determined her next move, and how her past would play to her future.

When he accepted her offering, she was pleased for a moment—until the sardonic murmur gave her pause, and she then recalled the acorn she had made him. She laughed—a true laugh, at the reminder—and upon instinct, her eyes grazed briefly over him, seeing no sign of such—but not feeling insulted by such a whimsical gift.

“Can’t have had many decent courting gifts if you think a squirrel is a worthy one,” she retorted, stepping back to allow him his space so he could quiet his hunger—replenish himself, even if the meal was small.