Neverwinter Forest ctrl+a; backspace; begin again

Short post to get this wrapped up. Last post from me!

“For your graciousness, great lord, forest king,” Lotte said carefully, “though you already have loyal followers of your own, know that I will avail myself to do your bidding should you need me.” She swept him a deep bow, touching her chin to the inside of her outstretched carpus as her other foreleg curled daintily to tuck against her thick ashen ruff. To his kind request, she politely shook her head — for Lotte was a warrior’s daughter, and although she was not a ruthless fiend, she felt it was Marbas’ duty to remove himself from Neverwinter’s borders. She would aid him, of course, but she hoped he would take the initiative to rise on his owns. His wounds were not so grave that he could not walk; she had seen a wolf once with the skin of its back completely degloved, and that wolf had walked. Marbas had to want to live. If he did not, Lotte could do nothing for him.

She was pleased, therefore, when he saw fit to rouse himself, unsteadily pushing himself to his paws. “The little lion will walk,” she said cheerfully, decisively. “I thank you, treelord, for his life.” The weak, fever-bright mahogany eyes that centered blearily upon her tugged at her heartstrings, and she wondered briefly if there was anything that rhymed with Marbas — but she buried her feelings beneath a comedic character’s blithe smile as she slid her muzzle, unafraid, beneath Marbas’ and gently lifted it. “Shh,” she gently soothed him. “I did nothing more than I wanted to do, pikku leijona,” she pointed out. “You have not inconvenienced me…yet.” Her eyes fixed on him playfully, mindful of their need to begin moving and patently unmoved by his shame. “Don’t be planning on it,” she said tartly.

“I thank you, bright-eyed king and wary watcher,” she concluded, looking from Scimitar to Pasha with her glinting argent eyes half-hooded in a respectful averted gaze. “While I may, I will have the sunlight with the little mud puddle. We go.”