Silvertip Mountain daybreak

Arktos.

It sounded like the name of a celestial body. A star, a comet, a galaxy. But Fjall might have thought this of any name the man would have conjured. He stole glances at him as he surveyed the land; he was much more interested in the introspective stranger than the views which he had seen before. Though, perhaps, not from this height…

He turned his lavender gaze outward when Arktos answered. There was so much more beyond the glacier: hills and valleys and rivers and ridges. He stared towards Winterglade [Neverwinter Forest], but he only heard the man’s voice.

Wife.

Oh. Briefly, Fjall felt uncomfortable again. Wait— was it disappointment he felt? What was there to be disappointed about? Colored by emotion, he understood the exchange to mean that he should back off. I won’t pry, he said quietly. The revelations were for his wife, he reminded himself.

The wind buffeted them, and he closed his eyes to it, ears falling as he enjoyed a quick washing of his face. It calmed him considerably. The wind is very fretful today. It does not know whether it is coming or going, he commented, smiling to himself. Are you a believer in spirits? he asked, opening one eye to peer up at Arktos. If you do not mind my asking.