Caan seems to yield by shades. Iglux̂ does not pretend her words have any influence, rather, it is what is exchanged in common between the son and goldfinch. Bless Euphemia. The silver cannot follow her words, yet she feels their patience and all that Iglux̂ herself cannot summon nor understand.
In his drawn stance the silver remains watchful, ready to correct should teeth so much as open upon the healer.
But sensing a fragile seam opening between the son of saatsine and the dawnbreak shaman, the huntress backs some paces away to look on without overhearing.



