Neverwinter Forest warden

dutifully, ingram follows trikova as she leads the way, his weaving through the woods lacking the ethereal grace and elegance of the listener. his steps are heavy like the march of a soldier's not keen on hiding his presence. no, it was not his way. enemies would know he was coming, he would use his approaching presence as a fear tactic as those of his bloodline had used theirs.

his steps slow to a halt and he waits patiently as she disappears and returns with a leaf-wrapping clutched bewtixt her jaws.

he studies the bundle as she deposits it at his paws; leathery black nostrils flaring as he sniffs at it cautiously. she speaks to him of spirits calling as he nudges the bundle apart, the leaf wrapping revealing its contents to him.

he assumes he is to consume the mushrooms; especially with her warning of rest that he would receive after hanging heavy in the air.

eager to prove himself: to her, to the god of many faces, to the spirits.

and so, ingram consumes until ( if ) trikova tells him to stop and searches her mismatched gaze for guidance on what was to follow, for this was uncharted waters for him.