In the midst of crossing the moors, Vikta pauses to look back over her shoulder at the group.<br/><br/>When the elven girl had spoken, she'd understood... a flash of recognition in her eyes... but rather than respond in elven, she'd merely nodded, her demure smile an answer if there is one.  Not likely that Alarael wouldn't recognize Vikta as a half-breed... from her stature, her ears, her delicate-formed body... the pert delicacy of her form in contrast to the age in her stare...<br/><br/>But for now, she was on point... no time to recall the girls' forms one by one, no-- she had to move, and stay cold, alert, and silent.