{she has to wonder, briefly, if he draws nourishment from the water and muck as well, but it's passing, not the focus of her concentration. He does look young the way he sits and for the first time she wonders how old he is. Older than her and perhaps older even her grandmother's grandmother maybe but she doesn't know if that's old for his kind or not. For all she knows, he could still be young by his own standards and in a way, if she thinks of him that way, it's easier to deal with the obvious barriers between them when it comes to interaction. She's busy setting out what she managed to forage when he speaks and the voluntary move on his part surprises her enough that she doesn't answer right away from automatic habit - which turns out just as well because his clarification makes it obvious she was busy misunderstanding what the thank you was for.}

Mm. {she makes the noise because it buys her time but also because - it was nice to hear, especially from him. He's not all harsh looks and sharp angles apparently and she feels almost guilty for thinking so badly of him during the winter. Almost. Her entire spread is laid out between them in offering before she finally answers.} The woman that took me in taught me that. She taught me what I know about plants, this forest, you. She was very strict about being respectful.