Her gasp had him turning sharply towards her, brow furrowing in question. His muscled tensed in alarm. Too many days spent alone left him quick to jump to the worst conclusion. However there was no immediate danger. Instead she came towards him, pressed concern over him, and then hurried off. Wounds? Hurt? Fen'Harel tried to keep the confusion from creeping on his face. Nothing felt bruised or torn. Briefly his gaze flicked over his shoulder as he looked himself over.

Ah.

The fresh, bright pink scars that littered his body. They had been taking longer to heal – the skin became aggravated at one point and he hadn't wished to irritate them. Most were gifts from rougher terrain, but a few still lingered from days much too long ago. They had been deep once. Aching reminders that he was still flesh and blood. While they no longer stung with the sharpness of a fresh wound, he still tried to keep them from his mind.

His attentions drifted away from himself and towards the mare once she returned to his side. He watched, carefully, as she set to work with plants he could not recognize. His talents did not lay with healing – certainly not here where everything was so foreign. He kept quiet as she busied herself, his eyes following her movements as she hunted for one more plant to add to her mixture. A poultice, perhaps? Or the oils, maybe. His brow furrowed.

He would have to ask. While she seemed genuinely concerned over him he couldn't rid himself of the inkling of doubt lurking in the back of his mind. A carefully placed voice of caution. At the very least he wanted to know what the plants were. But then she was looking at him, a sheepish smile, and an apologizing.

“Nothing to forgive,” He said, with slight smile of his own. “If anything I'm grateful for your concern. I had.. put them out of my mind, since there was little I could do for them. As for an introduction, you may call me Fen'Harel.” He stepped forward, making a careful motion with his head towards her small work station. “I will admit to some curiosity though. I don't recognize those plants.”

It was a wariness that had him keeping watch upon her work. And wonder that had his gaze wandering. The pair of wings upon her back were.. unique. While wings on their own were not something new, they were still a rarity in his homeland. They had only ever been seen upon traders coming from distant places, or among those of his people with diluted bloods. But even those such wings were feathered and lay heavy.

Her wings were beautiful, delicate in appearance. Could she fly with them? His interest blossomed and he tried to keep the question at bay. Now wasn't the time to be openly discussing the mechanics of flight with a pair of butterfly wings.

He could question that later.