Swiftcurrent Creek whats comes next,

A coiled snake—the tension snapped thick in the air—the look she cast on him was raw with emotion, and he studied her—the wilt and apology, the sudden desire to once more seek a task as she continued gathering herbs. He was silent during this—she spoke—talking about Saatsine.

She requested he hold still—he complied. “It’s just a scratch, Morwenna,” he murmured, though he canted his head, looking down to the paste now. Still, shoulder jutted forward in offering, his eyes looking down the slender juncture of her cheekbone. “Talk to me, Morwenna,” he implored quietly—wondering if she would confide in him the worry that wracked her so.

They could discuss everything else after.