"I-I- think I-I'll be o-k-k-kay," stammers Gwyneira as she strategically maneuvers around to the other side of the big tree as Myfwany snatches her clothes from her. At least she would be okay if she could trust her companions with some of her secrets.
As they duck out of sight of the men, Gwyneira doggedly confounds any attempts by the druidess to remove her gloves. Whispering, "Hold on a m-minute, I-I can f-f-fix this," she raises a shivering finger to her lips and, hoping she is not about to commit a huge mistake, begins muttering a simple incantation as quietly as she can. Once it is cast, the 'herbalist' moves her hand over one of the soaked articles in Myfwany's hands, drying it out significantly.