Stavanger Bay how does the wolf sing each night, of the dominion of his heart

deirdre smiled warmly toward skellige at his assent, and she nodded. i will inform my own, she responded to his own words warmly, her tail waving--and as she noted his thoughtful look, deirdre's lips moved to form a question. but his gruff voice came and took the wind from her words, and her emerald eyes at once feel anxiously toward his saltridden paws. she marveled at their great size, and though deirdre was no small thing she did not hold his exceptional mass. 

the queen of flowers and trees spoke, her voice strong as it began, her eyes now looking for his own as she felt a surge of bravery. it is a vow i intend to keep, to be wed! she thrilled at this, but realized the question--she drew an anxious breath, and asked, ...is it still... something you desire? oh! what if he did not? she had only recently learned of why it was he occupied her mind so, why he resided in her dreams and in her heart; but of course she was young, and the birds sometimes sang of the young being foolish when it came to love! but she could not look away from him after she spoke. she drew even nearer, not wanting to miss the word, not wanting to be uncertain. what if it was not she that he loved?