Duskfire Glacier and down goes the hatchet on the chopping block 'cus i love you like a mountain

The warmth spread more in her chest, to hear that she might do well enough for him to like it. Comfort to know that she had not butchered his northern tongue beyond comprehension. There were not words for the feeling she had let build and so she simply offered him an almost shy smile. Then, if allowed, a small touch of her shoulder to his side. Tall as he was, matched with her rogue-stunted form, she could not do much more than that. Yet she had hope that it would convey everything she could not do verbally.

She learned that it was not his gods. There is brief flattery when he mumbles Peryite in questioning tones. No. . . Although she could not positive. Was this a place to store the dead? Were souls or ghosts dancing up in the heavens? Wish to see more. Come? She'd offer in a soft invitation before she moved to lope ahead.