There had been an incident with fire, but Rhiannon had been the only one to witness it in the hearth at home and never told anyone else. Nothing had burned, after all, the flames had only grown in tandem with her frustration - she'd forgotten over what, now - and burnt the meat she had been cooking. It did frighten her to know that it did not stop at wind, however. And she knew very well that she shouldn't dismiss this, pretend it did not exist and hope it went away. It was, very obviously, not going away.
Once again, Rhiannon looked down, sheepish. Almost ashamed, she shook her head. "I'm...I'm afraid. It's not something you can tell the wrong person. All those people when Jonathan- well, they had been drunk, there had been a big brawl, things were confused. My brother helped me cover it up. This man, he's only one man and I don't think he'll gain much traction if he tells anyone. But if I dare search and reveal myself to the wrong person..."