Grouse Thicket but we can overcome

The sandy huntress apologized for her lack of a calling. Kodlak did not feel the atonement to be a necessary offering, and so he bowed his head empathetically and granted her a sweet smile. It was as though his dusty features were lifted for a moment and he was shed in a more forgiving light. Though he was cut and jagged, comprised of rippling muscles and broad shoulders, he did not wish her to feel embarrassed for not having met his way of life, or for having left out her name upon meeting him. The Nord merely wished to know more about the sweet golden-eyed maiden he was speaking to. It did not do well to easily let others slip past him. He was more invested in the conversation that was shared.
 
“Ah, Niamh,” he tested her moniker on his own tongue and found it moderately challenging. Sheepishly, his cheeks flushed, and he dipped his muzzle to her out of respect. “I am Kodlak Whitemane, Harbinger of the Companions and Wuuthrad to the great tundra Jorrvaskr.” It was then that he offered her a proud bowing of his torso. Then, realizing that their location was not ideal for tales of his homeland, the Nord fixed her with an expression of curiosity. “Perhaps, we could step further from the tangle and find a place of more comfort?”