Qeya River it's a narrow neck of land

The formality of the other’s name and lineage stirred something within the silver-coated woman and as the other felt, she could feel her own posture rising. Her tail swayed and her head fleeted to dip gently in turn of the other’s introduction before she rose once more to introduce herself. “I am Freyja Loðbrók-- first born of Drageda,” she gently beckoned to the mountainside that stood proudly behind her before turning her attention to the ebony-cloaked stranger. Normally she would go about expressing her interests in her rise to leadership, but, such ambitions had been set aside by the beckoning of the wilds. She no longer wished to merely settle-- she wished to explore, learn, and perhaps find a place that she could call her own.

Giving the stranger a once-over, Freyja tilted her head slightly. “Where are the Sentinels that you speak of?” she asked, her brows rising to the occasion as her curiosity overtook their exchange.