The dryad watches Naiobe expectantly, shifting and squirming as she waits for an answer.<br/><br/>An answer that does not come even as she waits uncomfortably for it.  Nervous eyes follow the movement of Naiobe's hand and the knife held in it as she trims the flower.  The dryad sucks in her lower lip and winces slightly, much as a human might watching a surgeon at work.<br/><br/>"I... I could have made it healthy..." she murmurs softly as she continues to shift from foot to foot and steal a glance in the direction of her tree even though it's out of sight.<br/><br/>"May I go back to my tree now?" she asks softly, "Please?  Just let me touch it for a moment..."