Continue writing!

Those are true statements...so true! And the replies I agree with. I am sure there are others under 40 who are this way but mostly women over 40 go underappreciated for their hearts.

that was beautiful.

Startled, humanusfemina departs silently up the stairwell to look at the wounded female soldier, retreating out of sight.

"My name is humanusfemina, from a peasant and royal mixed bloodline in England. It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance." She quietly holds her head down.

humanusfemina turns swiftly aback to be surprised by the figure at the stairwell approaching her with this request.
"Dear Sir, I fear not to offend you, it is nice to meet you. I was just going to request from the merchant here who the human baby was, and how long it has stayed here." And she walks slowly towards him with a magical trepadation.
"I would be most happy to attend to your wounded friend, however my experience holds that of training with humans. I fear that I will not be able medically to attend to your friend, however I am more than happy to talk to her if she needs someone to lend an ear".

Yes, I fear not to offend you dear sir, however I am not sure what type of blood or race this subject is. Is he really human? If he is not, then I am afraid I can't help you. The DNA is different and I my experience is not that of another race.

The young woman humanusfemina gazes up at the stairwell as others one by one retire to their dwellings to prepare for battle tomorrow. Her gut plagues her as she thinks of the blue coloring on the human baby held tenderly in the untrusting woman's arms, and noone but another human would know this. She herself felt an enourmous distrust that has followed her into this tavern. But after seeing the care that the woman beheld towards the human baby, humanusfemina trusts her instincts and decides to tell the group in the morning that the baby is sick. Her experience holds training from fellow nursemaids in the neighboring town of Sheebatin, where her mother, father and humsnusfemina fled from to escape the attacks of the hobgoblins.

From the door scurries in a tall slender young human woman, distracted to the stench that presides from the activity surrounding her, and freezing from the outside wind that follows her as she hastily shuts the large wooden heavy circular topped door. In her haste, she quickly covers her nose with a black thin handkerchief she pulls from her black tarnished maiden style dress' pocket just below her waist. Her manner is that of a shy woman, concealing her strong yet subtle spirit. Her aura is not of naive appeal, but instead reveals experience. She nods to a large stone faced man to her left who keeps tapping his fingers loudly on the dark worn wooden table that sits across from her left.
After a moment, she walks carefully on eggshells to the immediate right, and sits without intention to cause a stir.