Deepwood Weald bluebell

The weald was a quiet place, rarely finding visitors at its doorstep even despite its placement between the hinterlands and the rest of the wilds. And Dutch had never met this young woman before, but he recognized her scent from the hunts — she was welcome amongst them.

"We have not yet met, have we?" he called out as he caught up to her, his tail swaying in satisfaction after having tracked down her scent. "My name is Dutch Morningside. I am chief in this place."