Bearclaw Valley chamomile

yes, the brown one who athalia now knew as kristjan asks her of swiftlet. not here.
they were not here to talk about swiftlet, but instead they sought allyship with the bearclaws. as athalia looks up to gauge ancelin's reaction to this, he looks as if he may be having an aneurysm — all stiff and ruffled, stern and yet so painfully bashful. being the girl she is, she takes this as a sign that he is unsure.
and so, gladly, she takes up the mantle. what we get? her tone becomes accusatory, or at least it would be if it was not cast in overarching dullness, and she stares now at the black one. want swiftlet. bring. we friend, yes?