Nyla looked warily at Viktor. He had her things. Why? And why would he give her her own things? She snatched the items from the table and kept one eye on him as she put the shoes on her feet, stuffed her dress in her satchel, and wrapped the cloak around her shoulders.
Carn. There seemed to be something...predatorial about him. Nyla shifted her feet underneath her and stood, clutching her satchel. The hooded person entered the room. But Nyla felt cornered. She was standing in a corner, after all. "Shake the feelings," Nyla thought to herself, remembering the advice of the wild-dog, "they are the feelings of an animal. You are not an animal."
"Carne," Nyla replied, "I'm Nyla...from Wustental."