Stone Circle Life alone makes me shake

Her eyes warmed by degrees as Crowfeather seemed to test the sound of her name on his own tongue. There was something soft about him, she decided; something fragile, feather-fine and trembling as if he might scatter into a million little slivers of dark silk under the breeze. She remembered that it was not him who had chased her from Riverclan. He had stammered then, too. The memory seemed to loosen her grip on the resentment she held to her chest like a shield.
Then he noticed her wounds, and she could only frown; she'd forgotten about those. She hardly felt them most of the time, and when she did she felt terribly dramatic about it all. Oh, it's nothing - I'm fine, Reverie tried to wave away his concern. She didn't need it, not from him of all wolves. I... should I call for Bjarna? She looked to the gifts, then back to him, uncertain. It felt as if they might be getting somewhere, and Bjarna's presence would surely put a halt to their progress... but what could Crowfeather possibly want from Reverie? Friendship? She wasn't certain if she could be friends with someone who would do what he had done to her. His reaction wasn't a crime by any means, and she certainly didn't think him a bad person, but... she expected more of those she cared for.