Beltane listened closely but her face was an open book; confused at first, then pleased and then happy. Finally, a combination of all of them, the slightest hint of content resonating in the corner of her lips as Natiya sung. Sad words. Or rather, words that spoke of a sadness that perhaps she did not even know herself. Beltane felt it like the undertow of the river; it pulled gently at first but ah, she wondered if it might ever grow in strength and wash all that was Natiya away.
Still, she listened well; she closed her eyes, allowed her functioning ear to turn forward while the other pressed back in order to hush the whispers of the swamps. She nodded when the tune came to its end and a single eye peeled open to meet Natiya's; "Perhaps summer shall bring us a more cheerful tune," and then her other eye peeled open, as did her lips to reveal a faint grin, "though any tune can be beautiful with such a voice, don't you think?" She swayed, a near mirror of Natiya's trance-like movement, but she quickly placated herself as her dead ear turned up suddenly. It was as if she had heard somebody call for her and perhaps she very well had.
"There are things I must tend to, my Lark but I shall find you again," her grin was broad, as were her eyes, almost hauntingly so as she bowed her head to the woman; respect, perhaps, or rather the promise of it. Some day. She hoped the girl could still hatch and that she hadn't chosen to roost atop a rotten egg. "Your voice is one that shall sing for many in due time, yes." She giggled and then, she turned in order to drift back into the mist and reeds as she had before Natiya had caught her off guard. Ah, it seems it had not been in vain though. This swamp was full of such peculiar, fascinating things.