Golden Glade Mitsik

hope. a funny, tricky little thing; poison to the blind, salvation to the wise. there was perhaps a bit of magic in the feeling itself. a sort of warmth, a spark not unlike the beginning of a fire.
and like fire, it had the potential to burn the unwary. but antha kept these grim thoughts to herself, and turned her mind to the question posed by the northerner. i admit, i haven't had the opportunity to make true conversation with any of them, but they strike me as fine wolves in the making. brave and strong, all of them, to make such a journey, she offered a smile.
may i hear more about your village, issorartuyok? if i'm to join your ranks, i would like to know more of your people's ways. their history, out of habit, she watched his face as she spoke, watched for any sign of anger or deceit. once, she had not been so vigilant; antha never grieved the same mistake twice.