He may not be looking at her, but she's looking at him, blue eyes soft and concerned and focused on his profile.

She doesn't say a word, because there's really nothing she can say. She's worried for him, and were they not on horseback, she would probably close the distance between them and squeeze his hand. It's the only reassurance she can offer.

As it is now, she is helpless to do anything but just sit as she is and listen to his words, his ever changing picture in her head morphing yet again.

And it's like she's seeing things through a dirty window.