Moonsong Glacier if he lives and we die

he does not even need to call; though he draws in a breath to do so, he lets it out the air he'd been building in his lungs at the approach of a woman draped in browns and creams. hello, he rumbles to her greeting, finding it a bit strange.

i am rusalka cairn, of raventhorpe. we claim the plateau a ways north. he gestures in it's direction with a sweep of his broad muzzle, just in case she was not overly familiar with these lands, as he'd been, recently. in truth, he was still unfamiliar with most of the territories, likely. for though he ventures it is not without purpose and always he remains in the radius of home.