Moonspear Moodi / Cryin

Argent gave a mild tip of his muzzle in understanding—perhaps even in quiet agreement. Yet she spoke of the cold—and his eyes lifted to scan the icy lands—only mildly curious what the landscape they inhabited would look when spring brought its thaw. “Do you not have…. An ulaq?” The word was foreign on his tongue—he tested it, wondering if he had butchered it.

Then, with a step forward more, the Sandraudiga motioned to the direction of Moonspear’s borders. “A walk might help warm you up if you want to join me,” he offered, partially believing she would say no, given her fatigued state. Had he been a smoother operator, he might have suggested other ways in which they could warm themselves—but he found he was motivated to not be chased from the land, and thus, withheld the mischievous suggestion.