Moonsong Glacier Ferrous

Thyra of Raventhorpe.

It sounded enchanting, Fjall thought. The girl herself was an idol of the forest: eyes the soft gray-green of bay leaves, fur the same color of sun-dappled earth — her pelt an embrace of bronze and shadow. She was terribly sweet, too. A friendly meekness that said she stood unaware of what a vision she was.

He felt his throat tighten.

Moontide, yes— I mean, this is Moonsong. We are sister-village to the moon-packs. Our borders are very new, yes, he agreed bashfully. I realize now that this may make your journey to Moontide a little longer.

But Fjall was too kind to inconvenience her. I... can escort you, if you’d like? It is a small walk across — just a corner of our claim, really — we will be fast. His tail gave a hopeful wag.