Then he began unbraiding her hair.

His fingers thrilled at the silken touch of it.

He felt his face flushing hot under his beard, and he knew that her eyes were on him wonderingly.
A small strand he divided into three parts and began weaving into a silken thread only a little larger than the wolf-man's snare.

From, the woven tress he pointed to Bram and in an instant her face lighted up with understanding.
She answered him in pantomime.

Either she or Bram had cut the tress from her head that had gone into the making of the golden snare.