Witch's Marsh please let me blaze

gleipnir watches her carefully, more inclined to read her body language and help it guide him towards the eventual understanding of her words. her nod is soft, but his keen glacial gaze catches it all the same. he shifts his weight again, lifting each paw out of the muck underfoot, after feeing the greedy mud swallow a little bit more of his paws as his weight causes him to sink. regardless of whether he's understood her or not ...he knows he does not wish to linger in this witching place for longer than necessary. there is little shelter. little more than mud and more mud as far as he cares to see.

gleipnir and sakh, he repeats in a quiet, contemplative rumble. ja, he answers her with a firm nod of his head. yes, i will travel with you, he hopes to communicate with her.