Hideaway Strath stood on it to make him stop

As she stepped away from the cover of the trees, the gentle winds carried her scent towards him. It’s a familiar fragrance, one he does not particularly enjoy. It reminds him of the golden woman and her unruly son. Had it been anyone else, his eyes would betray his disgust, but this woman was different. She’s soft spoken, polite. That’s more to say than the wolves she runs with. So he smiled, both with his lips and eyes.

It’s quite alright, he started. Channel Vasselli.. what a lovely name. I am Cenric Deorwine. He wondered if the Firebirds carried his name on their tongues. The thought brings a level of satisfaction, even if they may very well say it with ill intent.