Falls of the Hinterlands seeker

The woman’s words twisted and turned, slipping through Rhaena’s mind like mist. She spoke in riddles, much like her mother once did; and Rhaena had learned to listen then. So she tried now, carefully picking her words, though the meaning behind this „morass" that keeps what belongs to it remained out of reach. It stirred something in her, yet she could not grasp it. Her ears flicked back as discomfort settled in her chest, yet she held the woman’s gaze.
„I do not,” she admitted, truth falling from her lips with ease. Rhaena was still young, too honest for her own good, unaware that sometimes the truth is a dangerous thing to offer. One day, she would understand that strangers, no matter how kind, no matter how beautiful, were not to be trusted. But not today.
The woman’s next assumption sparked something sharp within her. Her brows knitted together as she rose to her feet, tail flicking behind her: „I’m not running from anything!” she snapped, though the words tasted uncertain on her tongue. Her gaze drifted toward the waterfall, where the world seemed vast and endless. No, she wasn’t running from anything; she was running toward something.
„Exploring,” Rhaena breathed at last, her periwinkle eyes finding the woman’s once more. And when her gaze flickered to her swollen belly, something softened in her.
„Yes,” she repeated, quieter now, as if saying it aloud would make it true: „I am exploring.”