Grouse Thicket but we can overcome

The golden huntress returned with curiosity. She repeated the name of his homeland back to him, as well as his identification. The Nordic blood was his own, but he did not anticipate the wolves from the Teekon Wilds culture to understand, or to find interest in where he had come from. It was kind of her to demonstrate such polite queries, and Kodlak offered her an assuring smile.
 
“Jorrvaskr,” he repeated the name of his homeland with a proud bowing of his skull. “It is far to the frozen northern reaches of the globe. Rolling hills of snow and ice, large white bears that can swim better than any wolf I’ve seen, and lights that dance overhead in the sky,” he described in a tone that was – more than anything – reverent. To speak of Jorrvaskr was to know it in the depths of his bones; the frigid north was just as much a part of him as his dusted brown pelt, or the glittering of his sea foam eyes. The Nord could have spoken about the beauty of his homeland for hours, but he was fearful of being rude to his present companion. He peered at her with a questioning stare and cocked his head ever so to the left.
 
“Do you hail from the land we stand on?”