In truth, she did nothing. Nothing to quell the discomfort that seemed to radiate between both Nate and his friend, the tension heavy in the air. She did nothing to silence her own discomfort as the pain tugged mercilessly around her lower abdomen, her whole body exhausted from the entire ordeal itself. And even if she had had her full energy back, she likely wouldn’t have done anything either.

The crazy bat of a woman—the one who had continued to lick her lips throughout their entire journey back home, staring at all of them like pieces of meat—spoke up as if to defend Nate. Saela glanced at her. To which he eagerly avoided all association. And she moved to stare at Nate.

Saela gave no indication that her attention was also fixed on the stranger who had followed them home—a healer, she had come to learn—but a stranger, nonetheless. From somewhere in her peripheral vision, she watched him as he had settled down beside a grove of trees.

And then, she returned a lazy blink towards Nate, ears pressed forward to listen.

Saela knew better than to get in between a man and his words—and while Nate could call himself different, Saela knew better than to trust his charming smile and silver words.

So, instead, she lay there in the grass as her mind churned with a dizziness elicited by her own fatigue. Ears twitching every so often to listen to the string of words Nate and his friend uttered.