The Heartwood Why does thou weep upon my grave

Pale eyes met his and the Saga begins to speak. There is a slight inflection, mocking in her tone, but he feels no ill will from it. Merely absolute acceptance of his words.

Tattered ears move forward as she continues to speak. Her voice whispering, curling around him. Where Malacath is deep and full bodied, her's is eerie to him, otherworldly cementing her into place of importance. Not as important as their leader, no, but important none the less. Perhaps it is a small nick of self-preservation that raises her up higher on the pedestal.

Half-lidded eyes, watched, while he listened, and finally Dreven nodded is head. I will keep you safe while you look for that which you need. Lead the way

He moved not to be in front of her or behind, but beside. Though he brushed her as he passed, and then waited. The position he took able to guard her from all sides. He was long and large enough that he almost encompassed her, and were any to look to one side, they would only see him. This way he would secure her safety. Nothing would happen to the little she witch seer while he was on guard.