Tuktu Weir Soul Searching

Valtyr's actions brought about the change he sought. The tawny nymph's meager physique straightened, her posture soothed of it's trembling. Mint eyes met the boy's upside-down copper gaze briefly as he traced her thin face, cheeks still damp. He righted himself, but remained prone upon the dry ground.

"Valtyr," he told her, "I live East of the mountains... Came here to hunt for my pack. I heard you," crying he thought. Saw her, even. However, he did not intone that fact for fear of seeming too intrustive. Rather, his voice remained low and even while it voiced his concerns, a calmness in his ruddy visage. "Are you," the Sveijarn paused, pressing his tongue against the back of his incisors in thought, "going to be okay?" The woman certainly wasn't okay now, the Sveijarn knew.