The man held things back, that much was certain. Pale eyes lingered on him, narrowing at half-spoken confessions and muttered promises of repentance, things she knew nothing of and thus made little sense. Atonement? Unease? Cuts and bruises she could understand, the sweat of sparring and running told tales where no words were needed, but Erthë was not a mind reader. She could tell that he was thinking of something, but when the king shrugged and tried to change the subject (one he had brought up in the first place) Erthë was left wondering what on earth he was talking about.

This, she had to admit, was a scenario she was not good at handling. On one hand she was curious and frank enough to press Tembovu for answers if she decided to appease this craving to know. He would probably answer, something in his manners hinted to her that he might even wish for her to ask... but then again, maybe he didn't. Maybe the change of topic was a way to cover up a slip of the tongue, to gloss over a mistake and a plea for her to not pursue the subject. With a stranger she might not even have noticed such a cue, let alone cared about it, but Tembovu was a friend. If he was uncomfortable talking about something then Erthë didn't want to be a source of agony... but again, if he wanted to confide in someone she wanted nothing more than to be of help, of comfort to someone who had come to mean so much to her.

If only he could be more clear about which option she ought to pick. To ask, or not to ask? To prod, or leave the matters lie?  

Suppressing a sigh of frustration the lanky yearling stalled for time and focused her attention on the other things Tembovu revealed. Tilney's name came without a face at first, an expression of blank politeness reaching her face until the memory of a lantern and a welcoming group on the borders brought his features back to her.

"Ah, yes, Tilney. That's good, I'll have to remember to congratulate him next time" she commented. "What are the tent and the... drawbridge for?" The unfamiliar word lingered for a while on her tongue, a puzzled glance at Tembovu inquiring what the thing was, as well as what it did.

His comment about Mbwene brought a smile to her lips and Erthë glanced down at the little creature, eyes glittering upon noticing the gesturing trunk; the silent communication did not go by unnoticed. While left out on the more intricate parts of the interaction, she had grown up with such a bond close at hand. Vadim and Vlasi were two parts of a whole, completing the other in a way she had no words to describe. It was a beautiful thing to behold, this growing bond between companion souls, but it made her feel somewhat left out. A joke exchanged in a language unfamiliar to her, the knowing smiles of longtime friends behind her back; a sensation of being incomplete, broken.

It nettled her, even though she knew they weren't doing it on purpose, and whatever concerns she might have held towards the king's tender feelings vanished as Erthë began to walk towards the forest edge, guessing her seasoned comrade would fall in beside her and follow.

"Tell me about the 'not so good' things, Tembu" she said as she reached his side. "What happened, that you must atone and that caused such unease to spread?"  

Though her tone was even and the gaze steady as she regarded him, something about her made it clear she had little patience for riddles. In fact, happy as she was to be home and in the company of one she considered kin, the root and cause of her restlessness still remained, the barb that was the source of the initial itch. Anger and impatience came as easily as smiles lately, mercurial moods that swayed back and forth like seaweed in a tidal pool.

It wasn't Tembovu's fault, but he was the only one present at the time - so unfortunately he was the only one upon whom she could vent. Good thing he was a big boy; no doubt he would be able to shoulder the burden of frustrations from someone as small as she.

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Waiting for the rain I'm bracing for the thunder
A twig that wouldn't sway in the wind