Swiftcurrent Creek I keep you warm and won't ask you where you've been

She sighs softly at his apology, feeling a little guilty and irritated by the feeling. It's as much my fault as yours, She says, glancing briefly back toward him. It's not fair of him to take all of the blame, either, she thinks; it is her right to be responsible for her own actions, isn't it? She's certainly not a child.
At his question, she shakes her head, gaze flitting to the decimated carcass for a moment. She rises to her feet suddenly, struck by a wave of restless anxiety, though she's not certain where she intends to go, if anywhere. She doesn't get that far anyway; dizziness washes over her as she stands, and she nearly loses her balance. Shame stings her face and ears as she struggles to steady herself, simultaneously fighting a fresh wave of nausea. She can already tell pregnancy is not going to be her thing.