It was only when his expression changed that she realized. Nyla's befuddled, blushing smile slipped away and she quickly drew her hand back, tugging her sleeve down to once again hide the marks.
"I—I should go," she whispered, unable to look at him. More than the general nervousness she always felt when someone saw her scars, she realized she was...ashamed. She knew they weren't her fault, not really, but... They invited questions she didn't want to answer, and dragged up memories she'd rather forget. And, shallow a thought as it was, she knew they were hardly appealing.
Hoping to shut down any curiosity, she gave a small sigh and looked toward the apple tree—reminding herself she could create, could help things grow, not just destroy—then murmured, "It was a long time ago, Chase. I'm...I'm alright."