Larksong Grotto Lokasenna

from overhead there came an answer. thinking first of her guardsman brunhilda was not bothered by the presence, turning to look as the man followed the bluff's curvature.

they were comparable to the menfolk she was familiar with, narrower of build but not by much. an ophidian quality to the face, which brunhild studied only briefly. there was a flicker of doubt in her own eyes, vanishing as his words met her ears.

sorrow would have been suitable. certainly there was pain in her heart to look upon a stranger and hear such a pronouncement. she continued to smile, a grin bursting across her face.

hail! do you live nearby? perhaps someone has seen a man and child pass through. . .? there was hope within her voice, which burst from her in a wave. it was loud enough to shake the entire rotlend according to some. 

a pause. letting the stranger speak if the desire struck him. some measure of distance aft, the guardsman's silhouette slips among the trees. emeric can be heard investigating beyond the grotto as a far-off distress call sounds.
 
brunhild listens, turning an ear. surely the man could handle a squirrel by himself.

ah, breakfast must be on its way. she comments, chuckling.