[ There is no reason (she feels no reason) not to trust him, and so she does, letting her eyelids close again. The dull throb at the back of her head seems to fill the space within with cotton wool, making proper thinking difficult.
A scrap of memory a year old flits by, of breezes just like these, ridden through on the sway of a great creature's back, rocking up and down with every beat of silver wings. Just as they were doing, now.
Ah, but this Synard is missing... something... ]
Are you... hurt?
[ Reaching up with a hand of her own to cover, gently, the one on her face. ]
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A scrap of memory a year old flits by, of breezes just like these, ridden through on the sway of a great creature's back, rocking up and down with every beat of silver wings. Just as they were doing, now.
Ah, but this Synard is missing... something... ]
Are you... hurt?
[ Reaching up with a hand of her own to cover, gently, the one on her face. ]