[b]Thaler[/b]

While aware of the conversation around her she could not comprehend the foreign tongue, something in her skull itched as if in dispute but she neither poked nor pried into that subtle itch. It was nice not to have to concentrate but her senses disagreed, every little leaf was as loud as the rustles of the pages in a book and every subtle shifting of feet on the compacted dirt may as well have been steps on eggshells. She was tired and her ears were sore from all the sounds she heard. It was a side effect she guessed, of having 'enhanced' hearing to make up for her blindness. Sounds were always louder but that wasn't necessarily always a good thing. She kept idle check of Jaelnec's position and Aemoten's breathing, the rustle of crow wings and the flick of donkey tails. Etakar was hard to ignore of course, his large size and the powerful lungs meant every exhale rung out like a bellows. 

Everyone was alive, everyone was okay and that was all that mattered. If the people here dared to try something none of them were in the shape to fight but that didn't mean they wouldn't if they had to. Her head brushed the bark of the tree, allowing herself to be immersed in the feeling of not being primed for action.

A fleeting moment passed and then Olan, that sweet old man who she'd do anything for, spoke again. Her eyes flicked open and her head raised, turning in Olan's direction. An itch inside her skull was all that told her he had done anything at all. Perhaps due to their shared skill or perhaps due to having already seen him use it. For a moment she wrestled with herself, if she mentioned it it might embarrass him and there would be need for discussions, if she didn't then he might continue to speak with such a power and hurt himself. Her brow furrowed, neither choice was good, especially when she barely understood how Olan or herself did what they did -although Olan with more skill- and he was not causing any issue to any but himself. Of course, he had died that morning, so stretching himself was likely unwise. 

With a concentration she was reluctant to muster from the recesses of her soul, whatever tatters of it Rilon had left behind, she pushed herself up from the ground and gave a single low whistle. Primitive as it was it was good enough and her head tilted slightly to better catch the echoes on their return. Carefully she picked her way through the clearing towards where the voices had been. Reaching out when she caught the unforgettable scent of Olan and snagging the edge of his shirt. 

What now though? Was she going to tell him in front of the strangers? At a loss at what the next step ought to be she sought just to squeeze his sleeve and hope the message reached him without words.