Warja's ears flicked back as the sickly wolf began to reply. Her eyes soon narrowed suspiciously. The fae said she was alright, but the young healer had the nagging suspicion that she was like that big Yfir lug that insisted he was okay when in reality his chest wound was one wrong move away from popping open and fountaining pus. "No," she said firmly, "I won't. You are obviously unwell and I can't in good conscience fight you without an explanation as to why you are so unkempt." Quirking a brow, she uttered the challenge, "Give me a good reason and I'll give you a fight." If the tan woman had a reasonable explanation for looking like she hadn't bathed or eaten regularly in weeks then Warja would relent.
