Neverwinter Forest Only Love Myself, No More

She was a traveler with questions about the area—nothing suspicious about that, but Simmik continued her stony appearance. She was not necessarily convinced this stranger had innocent intentions just yet. She was willing to answer her questions, though. She wondered what all the glen wolves had told her about them. She also wasn't sure she'd use the word kind to describe them; they hadn't really done anything to Neverwinter, but there was still a long held wariness of anyone associated with Moonspear. 

Since the woman was apparently traveling on her own, Simmik felt inclined to be truthful with her about how exactly it had been to live in these lands. Well, the last few months have not really been easy, she told the woman. You should be careful wandering around here on your own; there are monsters that prey on lone women. Her expression darkened with the memories of her own trauma and trusted or not, she didn't wish for anyone to have to go through that. One man in particular—he is white like I am. I don't know his name. A hard swallow moved down her throat before she continued. And a pack that we have had trouble with; they call themselves The Saints of the Dying Light. You should stay clear of them.

The beta studied the stranger's storm cloud face. Aside from that, I like our forest; it provides protection from more than just inclement weather. In case she found herself in need of a place to stay for the winter. Simmik had some questions of her own, but she held them back to hear the traveler's questions if she had any.