Deepwood Weald fṇðṇ

Her voice was feather-light. So utterly sweet for someone so marred. Perhaps that needed to be changed. 
She knew of injuries that changed the voice, made some sound harsh and rugged, or barely able to speak. 
She’d inflicted wounds like them before. 

“Nightwalker.” 
No. No mere wanderer. Perhaps the name would already cast a shadow of dread.
She seemed fearful anyway. Shying away from her presence. She shouldn’t approach, no matter how lovely she looked. This was business. 

“It is advisable you remove your pack from the territory.” 
The valley was theirs.