Northstar Vale foalócë

As the darkling's brow tousled in manner she had come to expect, the stricken mused of how expeditions to the Taiga would be held—
( hopefully with a General's agreement of jointed forces? )
—and there was much to talk about, to speak of; and each moment spent stalling upon such was a moment that would be better used for the bettering of her sworn; her vowed. Only when he speaks of his own offering do her doe-thin ears quiver as she returns to their current discussion.

... Fair enough, it seems. Although—  "What would your services entail, if I may ask? We are many sages, few soliders,"  and so perchance her wolves might find a priest welcome to this vale they wished to make their own.  "Your services ... and a name."  A lull. Then:  "Have you a birthsname? Or, I suppose, a name which your gods have given you?"