Neverwinter Forest Michael's gone insane, Julie starts to make me nervous

Winging it with this man rn oops..

To have found his way back to Swiftcurrent Creek had been a bittersweet relief — but a short-lived one, in the end. Such was the way of his life. Out once again on Akavir's trail, hoping to put himself to use even in his tattered state, Panacea had been caught in a flurry of fog and new snow. By the time he'd regained any sense of direction, he knew he'd gone too far.

Weakened by hunger and infection in his still-healing wounds, he'd made a quick decision: the nearest pack. Panacea could have cried when he actually found one. He half-collapsed a distance away from the borders, calling out without letting himself think too much about it.

sólhárr approached the figure cautiously, his golden eyes sharp and unyielding as they swept over the weakened man at his borders. the ginger wolf’s frame was gaunt, his stance faltering even as he tried to hold himself upright. sólhárr’s nose twitched, picking up the faint tang of infection beneath the cold wind. his steps slowed as he stopped just shy of the stranger, his posture steady but not aggressive.

what’s happened to you? he asked, his voice low and firm, the northern chill evident in his tone. there was no judgment, only a directness that came with the responsibility of protecting his pack.

his gaze held on the man, waiting for an explanation. whatever the reason for his presence, sólhárr would determine soon enough if he was a threat—or simply a soul in desperate need of help.

Ah, a northern wolf; not pale as Panacea had come to expect, but carved from redwood and rich goldtorched earth. His accent, though, was unmistakable. Panacea forced a new steadiness into his own limbs in automatic response.

He'd never bothered to learn any of the northern languages, and cursed himself for it now. It's a long story, He confessed. Waylaid by a storm on an ill-advised scouting trip is the short version. I should've been at home letting my wounds heal, but hindsight and all that. I'll never make it across the mountains like this.

So I'm looking for a place to heal up. I'll stay long enough to repay my debt, and then I'll be on my way. If this is that kind of place. Panacea tried not to look anxious. It wasn't like his health or his life depended on this single first impression or anything.

sólhárr’s golden eyes narrowed as he studied the man before him, taking in his unsteady frame and the way his words spilled with more urgency than confidence. his ears flicked at the mention of healing, and he stood silent for a moment, letting the weight of the stranger’s predicament settle in the cold air between them.

yes, he said finally, his voice low and deliberate, the northern accent carving through his broken common tongue. you heal.

his gaze lingered, sharp and assessing, before he tilted his head slightly toward the distant outline of chimera’s claim. it was not an invitation, not yet, but a test of sorts. sólhárr was no fool—he’d watch this one closely, see if his words matched his actions.

he turned partially, his broad frame poised to lead the way. come, he added simply, not waiting to see if the man would follow. the mountain would make its own judgment soon enough.