Ankyra Sound to untie this knot

Caoimhe had to agree with his words. Her mother and her sister were very special indeed. Did she see herself among them? Before two days ago, certainly not. But things had changed. The wood spoke and she had felt—or heard—it. Her expression morphed to surprise as he renamed her. It was a kind name, and she deduced he called her such a thing because her own name, heavily accented itself, might be difficult to say with his own accent thrown into the recipe of it. She silently accepted the title he gave her, a soft smile pulling at her lips as she realized, a beat later, that he had called her beauty. 

As he brought her to the sand, Caoimhe walked with him. But having never touched the salt of the earth, her movements were unpracticed and she grimaced as she felt the beads of sand funnel between her toes. It was different than dirt, but... not painful. Strange, though. Her head turned and looked at the high cliffs that surrounded them, but she could not help but look over her shoulder toward the forest. 

When he introduced herself, he found her attention again. Vlad, came her Irish accent. I am happy to know you. This Salty Winter is lovely. Do... do you lead? She would hold a respect for him no matter what; it seemed that he did, to allow her entrance and access to the place so swiftly. I do not know of... water doge... or creb... but I am willing to learn, Caoimhe freely admitted this; she was more practiced in taking down rabbits, or deer, or anything else that dwelt in the forest.