Blackfoot Forest i. please be gentle,

an owlish blink of aventurine. "aiwë," the cloudberry murmured in return. "no service," the dove wisped liltingly, rabbit-skin diadem canting slightly aside with a wry grin that again pulled at her healing flesh and soon settled her features into a standard stoicism. 

"lótë... aiwë," a brief expression of confusion twisted her serene features. "aiwë service." her muzzle shifted slightly in gesture towards the clump of moss, as if indicating to her earlier task.

"sandulf come?" again, her head tilted -- this time in question. there was a light, easy smile fixed up on the doe's lips as if to imply that she would not mind if he was in a hurry to be elsewhere. although, there was a hidden aspect that was very much eager for his company after weeks spent with only her own perplexing thoughts.