[ She knows they're still on their way to the library, and that there's really nothing to be done between here and there, but the idle talk of Ferelden's prized warhounds grates on her in a way still unfamiliar. Kitty's unfamiliarity with the intelligence and loyalty of them would be charming—should be charming—but instead it only makes her waspish and sharp: ]

Yes, Kitty. They are all clever. Well observed.

[ she is immediately ashamed of it. The sudden surges of irritation were uncontrolled, and she hated them. Hated the way the lanced through her training again and again. In addition, Kitty had become a friend in the way she had only two others (and Evie hardly counted, they were inextricably bound together) and lashing out at Kitty was different that being curt with Gwen. So, more gently: ]

Pardon, cherie. I am... strange to myself.

Yes. I have heard they are near as intelligent as we, and both faultlessly loyal and well suited to battle. If she has decided she is yours, and you hers, then you have a dog now.