The Heartwood forget you, and you, and you

There was a lingering tension as the three strangers finally came to a meeting point. Pippin weighed his options, more keen on observing the size and musculature of the agouti wolf, rather than the ivory female. Still, there was something unsettling about the tall girl, and the Ostrega maintained a neutral stance, his muscles coiled should either of them choose to shift to unfriendly fire.

“You’re the only living things I’ve seen in here,” he rumbled, bright amber eyes drifting between them both, one ear flickering in recognition to the girl’s name and pack. Neverwinter Forest—not Nightwalkers. The other kept his identity to himself, and so, in good faith, the scout gave an errant smile. “Pippin, from Firebirds.”