Swiftcurrent Creek let me guess

A toothy grin to the boys stammering 'ahoy,' and she quietly laughed at his attempt, "ahoy, i'm Norsamu." It was fine to meet others who took in the language of sailors, even though he didn't look like a rowdy-lad. Scrawny, she thought as he was a golden youngin', looking like a shiny mouse, but he spoke to her clear enough, perhaps a shiny rat instead.

"Nay', t'was my folks who sing these songs of the sailors and pirates. Folk-songs passed down, songs for drinking of rum and tales of adventure." Back in the days the Pirates would sing these along as they gloat of their successful raids of treasure, but alas, she was alone since years ago, and remains singing along to the void that is the empty woods. Occasionally would one chime in, but not singalong, only question her choices. How Norsamu could use some rum right now.