Bearclaw Valley Jakt

The dark beast approached, drawing closer upon heavy paws with a thickset frame. Eventyr eyed the beast with a curious and icy glare. She did not know why it wished to intrude on their conversation, but she did not like the idea that an emissary of Svart would openly approach. The one who had been speaking had prattled on about fighting and death, seemingly unbothered by her decision to hold fast to her morals in the face of such danger. Logic could not be given to her, or to her sister.

But another appeared, drawing toward them on swift steps. The stranger stepped alongside Inkeri and, for the first time, Eventyr realized that this must be the holy sister – the one who had the entire devotion of her kin.

Anja, I assume? Eventyr glanced toward the dark not-wolf again. And a guard of yours? Another guess. Why else would the strange creature draw so close to them? The sensation that she was being cornered by unfamiliars made her wary. It would not be long before she would need to leave.