Ahead of her Lashan sees his shoulders shift and picks up on that rejection as clearly as if he'd said it out loud. Her lip curls before she makes herself let it go, which is easier since the refusal doesn't seem to involve any phrases like barbarian gabble. In a sense this is a reaction she's seen before in other contexts; children who are very good at certain things often find themselves struggling and wanting to avoid things they don't intuitively take to. She should probably be impressed that Guts is fluent in even one language. Poor Ilse had never really known human love either. Able to communicate with animals, she'd turned to them until the Sisters took her in. Even years later the girl speaks haltingly at best and doesn't really think in words.

Guts mispronounces 'bayot' too, in a way she won't bother correcting. Most of the plains words used day-to-day in the enclave are housefolk-ized, adapted to use the syllables of the region. "That's right. They're words from some ways south and east of here, where we don't pretend men and women are two different clans without a treaty between them. Swing left ahead - she went where the trail forks. Down towards the river. Can you hear it?" He'll have sharper ears than she does. In more ways than one.

She's not best happy about the girl going to the river. It's wide enough to get boats coming through now and then, and potentially is a supply line and source of transport for the peoples she's concerned about. At the moment Lashan still senses nothing, but she hasn't exactly stopped to let her awareness flow out to its furthest extent.