Deepwood Weald in this cocoon of velvet darkness

the singing, hard to ignore and even harder to miss as it drifts thru the weald is was captures the tundrian’s attention; despite that the words caught in snippets as he focuses between mapping a simple layout of the weald and the joyful singing, fall upon ears that do not recognize the tongue. the only reason he even recognizes it as a second language is because he, too, speaks an uncommon tongue here. heard only from the lips of his mother and now, his uncle.

the footfalls drawing nearer, however; are harder to ignore and wintersbane pauses his exploration to address the singing man as he appears in the tundrian’s path. a soft chuff of greeting is given; testing to see if the stranger was sociable or not ( though either way, wintersbane would not be offended ).

word count: 136