Hideaway Strath you are, and always have been, a revolution

Aerin is both elated and anxious when her fellow Specialist appears at the entrance to the den, heart thrumming rapidly with sudden nervousness. "Oh, yes," she reassures easily before admitting, a little awkwardly: "I actually came to see ye." The achromatic healer bends, holding herself a little clumsily on account of her own injuries, nudging the squirrel a little closer as if to say: for you. "One of ze 'ealers mentioned ye 'ad been 'urt," she explained as she shifted her weight on her paws a little uncertainly. "I just vanted to check zat ye vere okay." It was softer, and her moonstones did not quite meet the pale soldier's garnet gems -- as if shy of rejection, even in this small gesture. 

"I didnae mean to disturb yer rest, I could come back some other time if zat vould be better?" The halfling offered, dipping her head in a faint nod of acquiescence . It wouldn't offend her, if her suspicions were correct then she knew Simmik was likely feeling pretty fatigued these days. Being injured likely wouldn't help much with that either. The last thing she wanted to do was to bother the healing she-wolf or prevent her from recovering in peace.