Xen breathes sharply through her nose as she catches on... or, at least, forms a sort of "theory."  Needles, vials..?  Most certainly an assassin of some sort.  Any furthermore, a magic-one, or some species she's never encountered before that heals itself....   of course, that would explain why she was so lovely.  And might explain this strangely protective feeling that the island dweler has for the half-drowned stranger.<br/><br/>She snatches up her axe, which releases from the tree cleanly and undulled.  She stares down at the young woman, her amber eyes flickering with rage, the shade increasing the contrast between sun-bronzed skin and her ivory, bared teeth.  She hisses angrily, but softly.  "Are you trying to dupe me..?  What, make me drop my guard?  Make me a puppet with your words... and your... your... pretty eyes and all, so you can poison me with these?  Who are your people, Aeryn-- what are you doing on this island?!"  her mouth works silently as she seeks to form words she lacks the understanding for.  Her breasts heave with furious breaths, and her arms go taut, ready to strike, the muscles like ropes taut and ready to snap to action.<br/><br/>The barbaric elf lowers her axe smoothly, the hook-like tip of the blade suddenly hovering between Aeryn's breasts where the mark of her caste gleams on the skin.  "This mark.  What is it?"