| Var |
As Var moved across the distance that separated her from society, having left the line of security and certainty behind where it had been scoured into the earth, she quietly murmured a comforting lullaby of old beneath her breath. The english words had long been lost to her memory, if ever had they been nestled there, but the comfort it brought was not forgotten like its meaning. Her voice was quiet, rough compared to most maidens, and in no way lilting nor captivating, but such was not necessary, and neither, in turn, well practiced.
"Guten Abend, gut' Nacht
Mit Rosen bedacht
Mit Näglein besteckt
Schlüpf unter die Deck,"
Mit Rosen bedacht
Mit Näglein besteckt
Schlüpf unter die Deck,"
Although there were further lines, she stopped short of them, an instance of instinctive action, turning to fear and hostility in the slipping of a knife from a sheath, and the bending of knees to crouch among the undergrowths.