Naaramare's sleep had been restless and filled with fevered glimpses of the now-remembered elf. The memory-fragment she had been so pleased at first to discover was now becoming it's own problem, flashing constantly before her eyes.
Eventually, she gave up on sleep and rose, seeking someone's companionship, or simply distraction. Wandering at random, she paused, on impluse glancing into a room and catching a glimpse of a familiar face.
"Bethberry?" she said tentatively. "Am I disturbing? . . ." Seeing Bird's prone figure, her eyes widened. "Is something wrong?"
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