Tuktu Hinterlands more, give me more

Meadow. An ear flicked as he thought, eyes the color of guts strung from a tree moving from her to take in their whereabouts. The small clearing they were in was certainly no meadow and so, he discerned this to be her name. Engi, He repeated in his own language in a confident tone.

Her pronunciation of his name was... Well. His muzzle wrinkled slightly, though no anger writ itself across his face. Perhaps he would make it easier on her. Stjör. Styor. Stee-yor. His nose pointed directly to her, repeating her name again (his name for her, rather). Engi. A motion to himself, Stjor, and then a final motion back to his brother. Verkur í rassinum. Hurt butt. A low, throaty laugh left him as he moved his head just enough to see Sol and grin at him.