Silver Moraine all the world you roam turns you into stone

She shakes her head slightly at his words, snorting softly. You're too kind, you know, She tells him, tone teasing again but not unkind. Must bring you quite a bit of grief. The yearling pauses, studying Aditya for a moment. There's still that lingering, nagging suspicion — but he hasn't killed her yet.
I doubt I'm worth your kindness anyway, She adds a little wryly; it's easy to forget, sometimes, that she's worth less than the dirt beneath their paws. For a thief and a murderer, she holds herself confidently — even her self-deprecation oozes assurance. I'm not complaining, of course. By all means, rescue me — I do enjoy attention.