King Elk Forest the inundation

His silence did not typically derive comfort from others. Skellige had been described as many things; he was an unpropitious, daunting creature. The idea that this woman did not move before him was peculiar, even to the russet-eyed titan. Instead, she cast her gaze to him calmly and inquired as to whether or not the forest belonged to him. Immediately, his lip curled and he scoffed in response to such a question. Did the blood in his veins not howl that he was forged by the ocean’s waves? Flicking his tail upwards, the inky feral shook his head.
 
“I belong to the sea,” a guttural growl slithered past his dark lips and he cast his eyes to her own, locking them intensely. Flicking his salmon-colored tongue across his muzzle, he wondered for a moment if she happened to the call the forest her own. It would have been a strange way to demonstrate this, however, and so he cast the thought from his mind and returned to his quiet looming.