Neverwinter Forest of weeping willow trees

Can I get a @Solharr pretty please?

He'd paced several hundred yards away from the girl before tipping his head back to send out and inquisitive call for the hárkonungr — Are you nearby? He waited for an answer and then set off in that direction, hoping to put more distance between himself and the girl's resting place. It was far enough on the fringes of the territory that he hoped it would not offend the man, but her presence was more easily explained if he did not come across her trail.

It occurred to him only as he caught the hárkonungr's scent that he had not asked the girl for her name. This knowledge settled uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach, but he pressed on.

"Hárkonungr," he called, the word escaping him in a white plume of water vapor. His ears swiveled in every direction as he waited for the man to appear.

sólhárr emerged from the shadows like a figure carved from the earth itself, his gaze sharp as it settled on the bounty hunter. the low, commanding call had drawn him swiftly, curiosity tempered by the ever-present vigilance he carried as hárkonungr.

catamaran, he greeted, his voice steady and unhurried, his breath visible in the crisp air as he stepped closer. his head tipped slightly, a brow lifting in silent inquiry as he regarded the other man. you called. what is it?

his gaze flicked briefly to the surrounding area, keen to pick up on anything that might hint at the reason for the summons. sólhárr trusted catamaran’s judgment, but the bounty hunter’s manner carried a hint of unease that did not go unnoticed.

something amiss? he added, his tone calm but laced with curiosity. whatever had drawn the bounty hunter to call for him, sólhárr would face it with the same unyielding resolve he brought to all matters concerning forneskja.

The hárkonungr appeared, calm and inquisitive as he had been the last time he and Catamaran had met. Coral eyes raked over his pelt in search of change, but the leader appeared unharmed and in peak health.

"Not as such," he replied, believing this to be true even if he could think of several things that were "amiss". None of them needed Solharr's personal, direct attention, however. He would allow hárkonungr to decide for himself whether his intervention was necessary. If he was directed at once to go and roust the cuckoo bird from their nest, he would do so at once.

"I met a woman," he said without preamble. "A warrior-girl with a broken leg. I want her to stay here and recover." His posture was still deferential. He disliked the way it forced him to look up at Solharr instead of head-on, but he understood at least this much about his place here.

"The rest of Forneskja would feel no lack," he offered. "Hún myndi borða af disknum mínum."

hárkonungr's eyes narrowed slightly as he listened, skepticism flickering across his features like a shadow. a woman, catamaran said. a warrior-girl. the words hung in the air, and sólhárr found himself wondering—was it pity driving the bounty hunter? or something closer to infatuation?

hún myndi borða af disknum þínum, sólhárr repeated under his breath, his tone even, though there was a faint edge of curiosity. his gaze lingered on catamaran, sharp and unyielding. a warrior with a broken leg, he said, more to himself than to catamaran. and you think she will heal here.

he tilted his head slightly, blue eyes gleaming as he scrutinized the man before him. is her leg treatable? the question was blunt, though not unkind. the last thing forneskja needs is a wolf who cannot stand or hunt for herself. i trust your judgment, catamaran, but only if you’re certain she can recover.

he paused, his gaze unwavering. if you believe she has strength enough to walk again, then she may stay. but i’ll leave her care to you. seek callyope to pray for her, she will aid you.

sólhárr’s tail swayed once, a gesture of finality as he waited for catamaran’s response, his mind already turning over the possibilities. a warrior with a broken leg could be either a burden or a blessing—only time would tell which.

her life will be your responsibility.

The incredulity was expected; Catamaran was a little incredulous over this choice, himself. He'd had his fair share of one-night dealings, but never an arrangement such as this before. He did not think it would be worth Solharr's while by any means unless he — for some reason — valued Catamaran's personal morale.

"That's what I'm asking for," he replied, understanding that this was a favor he was asking more than a plan he was proposing. But, as he was further questioned, he felt confident answering: "She has a fighting spirit. She will run again."

If she did not — if she had failed to fend him off — she would be dead already.

Though the leader's dubiousness was palpable, he still gave Catamaran leave to keep the girl within their borders. A rare smile twitched to life on the seadog's scarred and weathered lips. "A bounty hunter is accustomed to this," he assured the man. And then, with a dip of his head: "Thank you, hárkonungr."

If he was not detained, he would go at once to find dinner for his prisoner patient.

the man's confidence in the girl’s recovery was noted, but sólhárr's skepticism lingered like a shadow. still, he trusted catamaran’s instincts enough to grant him this request—for now.

what does she look like? sólhárr asked after a pause, his tone calm, though there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. if she is to stay within forneskja, i will find her in my own time. his words carried no threat, only the quiet authority of a leader who intended to see for himself what kind of wolf had been brought into his fold.

his gaze softened slightly as catamaran dipped his head in gratitude, the faintest sign of approval crossing his features. you’re welcome, catamaran. see that she earns her place here. with that, he stepped back, giving the bounty hunter leave to tend to his charge, though sólhárr’s thoughts lingered on the girl with the fighting spirit. he would see soon enough if she truly had the strength to belong.

fade in your next?

The bounty hunter was glad when he did not ask for the girl's name. He gave a quick description of her — pale fur, paler unders, slight physique — and, unwittingly, described a small, paler, blue-eyed version of himself.

The rest of the conversation was one-sided. Catamaran was not sure whether or not she would pull her own weight when she recovered. He got the feeling that she wouldn't be staying for long afterward. This was a drain on resources either way, but Catamaran was determined to make up the difference. He knew, however, that he would have to cut her loose if resources grew thin.

The two departed from one another soon enough. Catamaran had some hunting to do.