Ollea sighed regretfully once in the cabin. She had kept trying to tell the wolf that they were on the same side- she had no intention of taking a Simaril- but it was necessary to keep her messages vague, and it resulted often in a lack of understanding.
Her cloak was now soaked through from the rain, and the dry air was at least warmer than the sheets of rain coming down outside.
She removed the wet cloak, draping it over a chair. Her hood had fallen back while running for the cabin, and she let her hair out to allow for it to dry faster.
She sensed Amanalkarion waching her. Interesting way you have of breaking up a fight,he commented. Ollea's breath caught in her throat. Of course! He must have noticed what she was doing, and put it together when the storm so suddenly arrived.
She turned her head towards him, eyes narrowing. We've met before, haven't we?
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