She looks up unafraid into his amber eyes as the strangely strengthening perfume that rises from his mane and drifts from his breath wreaths her, somehow banishing all her worries and fears and lifting the weary, grinding weight from her shoulders. The rough scrape of his tongue is still somehow gentle, and she can almost feel the small wounds healing under his touch, sure deep within that they'll be gone by morning.

"Thankee-sai," she murmurs, wondering and happy at his reassurance and so, so pleased to hear him praise those she cares for as well. "Ye are kind, and more than kind, and I can't thank ye enough."