Truthfully, I'm still so surprised and taken back, the wiry youth in me doesn't take offense toward her defense -- or even blink at the callus way she decrees my conclusion to be 'silly.' That gilden horned yearling could've cursed my stupidity and trampled my ignorance beneath the soiled claw of one of those lizard creatures -- it wouldn't have made any difference. The robed girl defends her honor on the stance that she was sired with those...gifts...which would render my previous concern utterly spent. (Since it is said that witch's gain their powers by every which way, minus being inbred.) Still, I remain unconvinced; this soul is by far old enough to know people lie as easily as they breath -- that dull drag of her tone didn't sooth the frayed nerves which are stung from anxiety (though but it didn't worsen them either.) I've been listening and saying nothing; questions mount higher, approaching their limited capacity.

Grass, stringy roots and soil matter began to creep around her lower limbs. I stiffen, the hot skin on my spine jerks and both ears drift further back along my adorned skull. Dappled rays of sunlight shone down on us both -- creating natural ripples against the living canvas. My eyes snap from her lean ankles and forlegs, they land upon the soft, dry flora around us. Those autumn blades quiver beneath a breeze, bending willingly in whatever direction the wind seemed to take. But no stringy creatures came up from the earth to ensnare me, the suspicious wanderer.

Her flat conclusion doesn't delude me from taking one more careful pass of the ground ahead and around, "No, I'm not," at least there's some strength returning to my tone. These vocals are increasingly steady. Hopefully, she isn't expecting me to go into even vague details of my past; I couldn't say that I'd originated from anywhere -- my mother had labored and delivered me on the road. She raised me up on those worn trails between countries and whole continents. There is no place, we (I) traveled to and lingered at long enough to settle. But this life didn't bother me; migrators, or gypsy's aren't uncommon. "I've never heard or seen anything like that -- only in stories." Stories pale in comparison to witnessing the truth of this...oddity. "Could you...stop doing that?" There was a slight quiver that I'm not proud of, "Please..." I wasn't going to OPENLY admit my fear of this strange vixen.