The Sentinels kovaa karhun

Rakeet! she repeated. And so I shall greet you, my dear Lærke. My voice is not so great as the warriors of old, but I hope to do it justice! In his company, she felt very fierce. To her, the men of the north had always been a romantic ideal, rough-hewn but loving wolves. Creatures of starlight who wore moon-gilded armor into battle and sang the sun to sleep. Much of this came from the stories of her better traveled mother, who was always prone to romanticism. 

She listened, rapt, to Lærke's description of his homeland. He spoke of it with reverence, and it was clear to her he loved the lands of his youth. It sounds beautiful, she sighed whistfully. Truly you are fortunate to have loved so well. I would love to hear more. Then a new thought, one borne of an earlier musing, came to her. Tell me, do you sing?

They spent some time together and she found him to be good company, and felt truly sad when it came time to part, though glad to have found a friend. (GAAAY)