Firefly Glen petals so pretty, roots too strong

Morwenna would nod her head in a brief acknowledgement. The sylph woman's name was Nephele, and these were her other children. She took a brief glance towards the other young girl, her colors nearly matching Anatolia's, nevertheless of the browns that dappled her coat.

Then, the trove of the news of a missing sibling had Morwenna's ears flattening to her head. A wave of anguish felt between her and Nephele— a mother's worst nightmare. The unknown of what happened to your child. She, at least, had the comfort of knowing her children would rest. Nephele, on the other hand, was lost in the traipsing thoughts of what if.

She only spoke when Anatolia's eyes found her own, glancing up from a helpless perspective. Morwenna swallowed the lump in her throat, finding the courage to want to help this woman.

Nephele— she started, voice cracking from a feeling of emotion. If you'd like to search for him, I can watch them. Though, how would Morwenna feel if a stranger wanted to watch over her own young? I've been a mother before. We'll stay here until your return. Her coat smelled of Swiftcurrent Creek at this point, so she wouldn't appear as some rogue.

But she'd understand if her comment was brash. She took a step closer to Anatolia, as much as she could, to let her forearms brush against her side. A comfort, maybe, that she was still there— albeit her still being a stranger.