The Heartwood Everything, everything, everything.

She blinked, and felt herself deflate a little at Shikoba's response. The older she-wolf exhaled a sigh and turned her face away, a gesture that Ciri was swift to interpret as disappointment. Her inner child stifled a whimper; it was easier to cope with an adult's anger than to be the source of their dissatisfaction.

The swallow didn't like the way she looked down on her, either. Her brow furrowed above sunflower eyes that glowered back, and the words to follow did nothing to soothe her frayed nerves. Ciri knew that the statement was supposed to be one of wisdom, but she hadn't asked for it. It bothered her to feel as though she might be regarded as ungrateful for her unwillingness to share her greatest tragedies with a stranger.

So she let her go. She watched quietly, stiffly, as the wayfarer made her way off. Ciri's attention diverted to her own path when Shikoba was gone from her line of sight, and carried on.