"I will believe the Dalish will do no harm when leagues lie between them and those I protect," Herian replies, quiet again, but not unkind. There had been a time, after all, when she believed in the Dalish just as earnestly, when her father had. A good, kind man.

She doubts that Healer Ancarrow is anything but unkind, in her own right. And yet, this is no time to go into the injuries she has suffered, nor the reasons for her beliefs. Those things are not relevant, are not things to be displayed easily, without being asked. Her heart and her past are free to be examined, but she will not simply lay them out to be ignored.

"Let us not be at odds on this. I would sooner lend my hands and strength to aiding you. Humans, even the elf-blooded, have no place correcting elves." It is painful, to be what she is; to be an affront to her father's memory, to her grandmother, to so many, even if she is fiercely proud of her mother.