Barrow Fields lotus eater

The straggler doesn’t take the hint of their defensive posture over their kill, their vocal growls, and obvious displeasure of her presence. They are tested, watching the woman step closer as if she’ll be invited. Thuringwethil’s lip curls, flashing her teeth with sincerity and taking a few steps to match the other’s brash approach. “Setnes fragon,” she instructions, stepping further away from the felled deer. Her head lifts high, tail curling hard over her spine—neutral territory they may be but Drageda’s front yard no less. Should the other dare to push her luck, Thuringwethil’s legs easily spring forward, launching toward the other.