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The healer looked with intensity at all who were present. Poor, poor Oddwen, she thought. Who could have... She trailed off, sleepy still. It was far too early after a late night out to be thinking so critically. Who says that healers don't dance? she thought with an amused smile. But alas, that isn't the point... we've a bloody lot of werewolves on the loose, without a single clue as to who they are.
She glared more or less equally at almost everybody, glaring slightly more forebodingly at Anguirel. The two had quite a rocky past, though not everyone was aware. If he tries any of that funny business this time...
"Fordim," she said worriedly, "what gives you the idea that the phantom is not as pure and innocent as the wind driven snow? Or that Aina might be more than she seems. Why those two, do you pick?"
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