"'Neurological'?" She asks anxiously, but he keeps talking on and doesn't seem horrified to suggest this or at all afraid of her, so it can't be anything that terrible. No healer she has seen so far has been able to give her any sort of good verdict; none of them have ever seen right through her to the wolf inside, tucked nose to tail under her ribs. There's no reason to expect that he will, is there, but... he is a rifter! They know many things.

"Both," she supplies. "Not all the time, just in—quiet moments, sometimes before I go to bed. Or if I sit around thinking too much; is that neurological too?"