Neverwinter Forest (m) he reflects hope and worry like a troubadour

There was something unmistakable about Towhee's voice, even though Dutch had only heard it on one occasion. He swung toward the sound, his own pit of dread suddenly yawning, and headed quickly in her direction. Narrowly, he stopped himself from calling her name — what good would that do?

Finding her, the scent of blood in the air, Dutch was careful to keep his distance until he'd circled into her line of sight.

-Are you alright?- he signed in passable ptero, a faintly puzzled pinch to his brow. He knew that women bled sometimes, and that this was often the season for it — but this seemed different somehow, and he felt it would be remiss to ignore it as he had in the past.