Neverwinter Forest thanks for not killing me; here's a baby

Very short posts to get all of my threadlogs up to date. ♥ I am sorry for the lack of quality and length.

Lotte strove for her usual jovial expression and mustered up the ghost of a smile for Scimitar and another of her gracefully sweeping bows. “Hyväntahtoinen kuningas,” she intoned in her low, melodic timbre, “I will sing of your graciousness to my brothers and sister.” She tucked away the phrase “the pup he has stolen from another pack and injured” to think about another time. Could it be that Marbas was truly an evil creature? He hadn’t seemed so initially, but Lotte had been so distracted with his defenselessness and the concern writ upon the treelord’s face that she would have paid little attention even so. She had a great propensity for mothering despite her youth and her lack of romantic experience; she had been raised on war drums and love songs, tales and songs of valor and lust and folly and fate. There was a hunger in her to experience these things, and in Marbas she had found the possibility of love if not the promise.

Bending her head, she dragged the wolf’s body inch by inch away from the borders of Neverwinter, but it was slow going. He was heavy, and though Lotte was large of stature and steely of muscle, she could not remove him completely to the clearing where she’d tended to him. She thought him dead; he had not responded to any of her ministrations. “Ai!” she cried out, and dashed away, returning with a poppy flower. From it she took one seed, crushed it between her incisors, and slipped it from her mouth to his in a farewell kiss that, despite its immodest appearance, was completely chaste. His swallowing reflex was as dead and dull as the rest of him, but she thought the poppy seed would serve its purpose regardless and ease his passing — just in case there was some nerve somewhere in his body that could still register pain. It was a foolish notion, but Lotte was fond of him and could not bear to think of his passing as being painful or prolonged. The clarion call of her brother’s voice pulled her away, and reluctantly she smoothed a kiss over Marbas’ stilled and cooling brow and placed the flower over his chest. “Little mud puddle,” she sighed, “farewell.”