Bramblepoint old wounds

Aneira pondered his words for a while, in silence. Her breath curled into the cold as the wind wove around them. She let them linger in spaces where doubt and knowing intertwined. He spoke of peace, but has she ever known peace, true peace? Growing up in a corrupt kingdom, under a cruel leader, whose pride meant more than his own people. She had felt the earth shudder, had stood in the ruin of what once seemed unshakable. Had learned that even the strongest stone could break. This was all she ever knew; survive, endure, fight. And yet…
„You speak of peace,” she murmured at last, quieter now, „You say this place endures. But does it welcome? Does it keep?” followed by a pause.
At last, her gaze lifted, meeting his; searching. Not for certainty, nor promises; those were things she no longer trusted. But for something steady, something unspoken, something she could name in time.
„I do not step forward blindly,” she began once more, though her voice was soft, it did not waver, „But I will consider what is before me.”
For now, that was all she would offer.