Neverwinter Forest haunted by ill angels only

Maude smirked at the gasp made by Cypress, the boy Kjalarr calledTorgeir, amused by his cracking voice. He was still a pup, barely an adult, but performing the acts of one. A teen, one might call him. Maude had long since passed that age of adolescence, carrying herself as an adult far longer than necessary. But she cuddled against the boy all the same, desperate for some kind of heat. He would have to do, small as he was, though she would have greatly have preferred someone larger, like Kjalarr.

He growled, which gave her pause, but his whine soothed her rising passions. She nuzzled him again, trying to find the warmest part of his body. She barely noticed the woman in the distance.