Neverwinter Forest There once was songbird, struck songless

Kinusi smelled the wolf she called Mist. Truthfully she was a bit put out by his nature. He had been kind and then not so much. His trail even grew cold. What a fella to invite someone in a manner of speaking and then leave em to rot. Not even greet them. Frankly he should be ashamed of himself.

But she wasn't going to let him get the best of her. As was normal for Kinusi she began to explore in Ernest and with her explorations she sang. Her voice haunting and litling. High picking the perfect pitch to go with the song. Her father told her once that anyone could sing if they practiced and so she had.

Come closer and see
See into the trees
Find the girl
While you can
Come closer and see
See into the dark
Just follow your eyes
Just follow your eyes
I hear her voice
Calling my name
The sound is deep
In the dark
I hear her voice
And start to run
Into the trees
Into the trees
Into the trees
Suddenly I stop
But I know it's too late
I'm lost in a forest
All alone
The girl was never there
It's always the same
I'm running towards nothing
Again and again and again and again

song is The Forest by the cure. A little bit of an obscure song. But eh.

sólhárr stilled at the sound of the voice, his breath curling in the crisp air as his single eye swept the forest. the haunting melody wove through the trees, pulling him like the tide, and he followed with slow, deliberate steps. the auburn pelt of his furs caught in faint shafts of moonlight, lending him a ghostly appearance as he moved.

he found her, a girl young and unweathered, her voice still trailing the final notes of her song. sólhárr approached cautiously, his bulk towering but his steps softened by intent. his ears pricked forward, his expression tempered with curiosity and something bordering on reverence.

you are, he rumbled, his deep voice a low thrum in the quiet, the child from moonspear? the one my wife spoke of?

his single eye rested on her, sharp yet kind, as if searching her for an answer that was not bound by words alone.

Heavy. Deliberate. Slow. The thrum of pawsteps that were not her own. She wound through the trees. Not a straight line. Meandering, dipping nose into hollows and staring up at wide trees. How she already liked the heaviness of this forest. And her voice carried nicely. She would love to hear her dad sing here.

Then a man of autumn all colors was there. Heads and shoulders above her, her father even. She finished her song and tilted her head. Padding to stand near him looking up. Though her tail lay firmly against hock.

I'm Kinusi Willow. Bard, storyteller, healer.

Another nod. Yes daughter of Alaric and Elentari.

his gaze steady as he looked down at the girl who introduced herself with a pride that belied her small stature. she carried herself well, a spark of something brighter beneath her youth.

kinusi, he rumbled, the name heavy in his mouth, spoken with deliberate care. his voice, low and steady, filled the space between them like the weight of the forest around them. i am sólhárr. hárkonungr of forneskja. my wife is seiðkona, one of the moondaughters.

he dipped his head slightly, a gesture of respect not often given, but one he deemed appropriate for this moment.

any friend to my wife is welcome here, he said, his tone firm but warm, the words carrying the weight of formality. he stepped back a pace, giving her space while still keeping her in his singular gaze.

welcome, kinusi willow, sólhárr continued, his voice deep and resonant as he formally acknowledged her. to forneskja. may the forest guide your steps and the máni favor your path.

he studied her for a moment longer, then straightened, his presence an unspoken promise of protection within these borders.

there is a place for you here; storyteller, if you wish to be trained.

Perhaps she was reckless. Prideful. Haughty even. But one thing she did know. She was unapologetic in her vintage. She was who she was. Not for everyone. But it did not change her views of herself..

Well met, Solharr. Harkonungr. His name was a mouthful the foreign taste of it turned her tongue. And she did not probably get it right. But she'd learn. Hopeful.

Did he feel shame at being so prideful of who his daughter was? Did he entertain a thought to the moonvillages themselves or only hold them in esteem for his wife only. Kinusi wondered but said nothing. The thought flitting as was par for the course.

She would not go so far to say she and thr alphess were friends. They got along just fine. But she'd only met her recently. And her father had taught her to guard ones self. He had never gone into detail but she knew his was a deep hurt. And he striped to keep her from it.

Trained in what? aa blink. Blue eyes tracing the forest. Humming a melody that felt like the forest itself.

sólhárr inclined his head slightly, acknowledging her greeting with the faintest flicker of amusement at her attempt to shape his name with her foreign tongue. she carried herself boldly, and he respected that.

trained to shape words, he rumbled, his voice like distant thunder rolling through the trees. to tell stories, recite tales. not just to sing, but to make others see the world as you do—through beauty of what you could weave.

his amber eye lingered on her briefly, before shifting to the forest around them, as if drawing inspiration from the life teeming in the shadows. or, he added, his tone steady, you can learn healing. how mend flesh, ease pain, and understand the ways of body.

he tilted his head slightly, studying her. both have value, kinusi. but the forest does not rush its own, and neither will i. you may choose, if you wish it. or perhaps you will find another way entirely.

his gaze returned to her, calm and steady.

There was a brief moment where irritation flashed into her eyes. That he should think she was not trained. Her father was all of these things. Had been training her to be the same since before she was able to leave the borders. He had told her countless stories.

I know how to shape words. I know how to use my body and my words to make your very soul ache and laughter flash across your face. I maybe young. But I know these things. My father made his living as a traveling storyteller, bard and healer. He has whispered the secrets to me before my eyes were opened.

She calmed herself took a deep breath. But I also know that no one is fully done learning. However I assure you. I have the framework for a well built foundation.

Now she wanted to prove that she could reach these lofty goals. She titled her head.

 For instance. You see a forest yes. I would tell you. *The pawsteps of the other were heavy and resolute. He held his head with noble bearing. The forest whispered. Bubbling voices weaved around his ears. The tiny fingers of wind weaved through his fur. Shadows danced along the forest floor mapping out a thousand tiny stars that winked in and out of existence as clouds covered the suns face.

And as she spoke. She contorted her paws her body as her father had taught her. A whisper of pawsteps. Dancing giggling face on the wind. Shadows of paws along spots on the forest floor.

sólhárr watched her in silence, his single amber eye fixed on the way she moved, the way her words shaped the air around them. there was something otherworldly in her presence, in how she twisted the mundane into something alive and breathing.

your father, he rumbled, his voice heavy with both admiration and certainty, taught you well.

he stepped closer, his massive form casting a shadow over her lithe one, though his stance was not imposing. instead, there was an air of reverence in how he regarded her, as though she had just revealed a piece of something sacred.

you don’t just tell a story, kinusi, he said, his tone lower now, as though speaking too loudly might disturb the moment. you become it. you make it real. your words—they dance.

he paused, taking in the way her paws had shaped shadows on the forest floor, the way her voice had laced itself into the very trees.

that is a gift, he continued, solemn and deliberate. and one that must be honored.

his gaze softened, a rare thing for him, and his tail gave a faint sway, the closest he came to a gesture of approval. you will learn much here. but already, i see you have much to teach. you speak with rökkur, sögumaðr—keeper of our stories, and he will be more than happy to learn and teach as well.

Kinusi was many things. But she would not allow her father's lessons to go untaught or unused. He had worked for years at his craft and if she could do nothing else. She would honor him at least.

Kini nodded her head. A brief flare of sadness curling into her chest. He had and she missed him. This was the first time in her life she had not slept in the same den as him.

She smiled then. Dad always says stories can transport. And heal just as well as an herb.

Rokkur. Is he nice? so far thr majority was standoffish and kinda rude. Except Callyope and maybe Solharr. Though she still hadn't quite forgiven him for accusing her of not know what she wanted or her craft.

sólhárr's quiet laugh rumbled softly, his gaze steady as he nodded. rökkur, he began, the name carrying a weight of respect, is a spirit talker of forneskja. he is openly kind, not one to hide his warmth. you'll find him in the mánilundur—the moongrove.

his single eye lingered on her briefly, measuring her response. if you're seeking a soul to share words with, he is the one to seek.

his tail flicked lightly, a gesture as subtle as the faint smile that crossed his features. he listens as much as he speaks. a rare thing, even here.

What in the world was a spiritalker
 Shouldn't the dead stay dead
 She thought so. It made her nervous immediately.

She nodded and then looked around. Uh point me in the right direction if you would?

Kinusi chuckled. That's probably good. I'm as windy as an old bird sometimes. Probably should absolutely learn that skill.

his amber gaze swept the landscape, sharp as a hawk's. i’ll take you there. best you stick close—these paths can trick the eye, and we’ve no time for wandering.

he turned with the confidence of one who’d walked the wilds his whole life, gesturing for her to follow. come on, then. if i’m to show you the way, we’d best get started before the wind decides to carry us both off with your talk. his smirk softened the otherwise gruff delivery, adding a glimmer of humor to his imposing presence.

Kinusi stared at him nonplussed. Who didn't have time to wander. He better not be talking about her. Because this songbird had all the time in the world. She gave an insufferable sigh. But nodded.

Kinusi chuckled. Thrn began to hum a bebop rhythm under her breath. She walked alongside him. Paws toe tapping. Head swinging. Enjoying the day and began to sing.

Whoo-hoo, whoo-hoo
Here come Johnny singing oldies, goldies
Be-bop-a-lula, baby, what I say
Here come Johnny singin' "I got a woman"
Down in the tunnels, trying to make it pay

He got the action, he got the motion
Oh, yeah, the boy can play
Dedication, devotion
He turnin' all the nighttime into the day
The song about the sweet ole lovin' woman

He do the song about the knife
And he do the walk, do the walk of life
Yeah, he do the walk of life
Here come Johnny, gonna tell you a story
Hand me now my walkin' shoes
Here come Johnny with the power and the glory

Backbeat, the talkin' blues
He got the action, he got the motion
Oh, yeah, the boy can play
Dedication, devotion

He turnin' all the nighttime into the day
The song about the sweet ole lovin' woman
He do the song about the knife
And he do the walk, do the walk of life
Yeah, he do the walk of life

Here come Johnny singing oldies, goldies
Be-bop-a-lula, baby, what I say
Here come Johnny singing "I got a woman"
Down in the tunnels, trying to make it pay
He got the action, he got the motion
Oh, yeah, the boy can play
Dedication, devotion

He turnin' all the nighttime into the day
And after all the violence and double-talk
There's just a song in all the trouble and the strife

You do the walk, yeah, you do the walk of life
Hmm, you do the walk of life
A-whoo-hoo
Whoo-hoo-hoo
Whoo-hoo-hoo
Whoo-hoo
Whoo-hoo-hoo
Yeah, do the walk of life.

song is walk of life by dire straits

sólhárr walked in measured silence beside her, his imposing frame cutting a path through the underbrush. the snow-dusted air felt heavier here, charged with something ancient, something unseen. kinusi’s song flitted through the stillness like a bright bird darting between shadowed trees, her voice unbothered, free. he glanced at her briefly, the corner of his mouth twitching in what might’ve been amusement, though his expression remained otherwise unreadable.

keep singing, kinusi, he rumbled, his voice low and steady. you’ll need that lightness when we pass through the veil.

he stopped suddenly, his gaze fixing ahead where the trees thickened, their trunks twisting as if they reached for one another, forming a natural arch. a faint silver glow pulsed beyond, spilling through the dense canopy like moonlight. sólhárr tilted his head toward it. that’s the moongrove, he said, his tone quieter now, almost reverent. through there lies the storyteller’s stone.

he turned to her, his amber eyes meeting hers. you’ll find rokkur there. if that’s what you’re after. he paused, his expression hardening just slightly. but tread carefully. the stone listens, and the grove remembers.

with that, he stepped forward, the massive wolf moving with deliberate purpose as he led her through the archway. the air seemed to shift as they entered, growing cooler, heavier, charged with a quiet power that hummed beneath the surface of everything. sólhárr didn’t look back, trusting she’d follow. the grove demanded focus—and respect.

Kinusi had never been one to like silence. It itched beneath her fur like a bur. So she filled it with songs. Or incessant talking .

There was no denying there was a heaviness to this forest. But Kinusi did not seek to change it. But rather exist within it. Even with her songs.

The veil. What had she gotten herself into. She wasn't necessarily a non believer but it felt like something one shouldn't mess with.

Kinusi followed him forward. Into a place of silence that hung on trees. And lights that danced all along.

sólhárr moved ahead in quiet purpose, his heavy paws crunching softly against the frostbitten earth. he cast a glance over his shoulder, the golden glow of his eyes finding kinusi as she trailed behind, her usual chatter absent for once. her silence wasn’t something he had demanded; it was something the grove itself commanded, its weight pressing down like a thick, unseen fog.

he paused at the edge of the clearing, letting her catch up. the grove stretched before them, ancient and alive, its trees seeming to breathe in time with the faint flicker of ethereal lights that wove between the branches. he did not speak, nor did he guide her further. this place was not his to explain—it was hers to feel, to navigate, to understand.

his ears twitched at the faintest of sounds, a reminder of the grove’s watchful stillness. he gave her a faint nod, a silent gesture of permission. if she wished to roam, to explore, he would let her. the grove would speak to her, if it chose. all he could do was stand sentinel at its edge, a guide to the threshold, but never beyond.

whatever kinusi sought, she would find it—or it would find her.

fade here? Thank you

He was a guardian in the way he moved and spoke. But was he a guardian for her or the forest she wasn't sure. They handled the forest like broken glass. But the thing with broken glass you got cut. So you needed to handle the glass before it broke.

She did not seek his approval or his gaze again. She began to weave throughout the groves. Snatches of different songs coming and cycling as she walked. A deep humming for the trees. The high pitched whistling buzz for bees. A quiet steady hum for the ground itself. So many sounds belonged to this forest and she loved them all.