Deepwood Weald they make a mess of my head

Despite their location and past worries about heavy foot traffic, Morningside had been quiet more often than not. The few faces they did see had been friendly and often familiar — something Dutch found idyllic and strange in equal measures. Still he was surprised but not displeased when an unfamiliar voice reached him. Unfamiliar as in he did not know the individual and strange in that there was a slightly odd pitch to the voice.

The panther called back in answer before he began heading in that direction. Long legs took him quickly to the borders, where he was once again struck by the alien appearance of the creatures before him. His lips parted, but for once, he was speechless — he had never seen quite so ethereal a pair, and his thoughts raced full of the half-spun tales he would tell of this day.

One thought rose above the rest: the female was heavily pregnant.

(What would such children look like?)

"Welcome to Morningside," he said to them, his burnish gaze still wide and raking. He tried to look a little less taken aback. "I am called Dutch — chief in this place. What are your names?"

And what was it that brought them here?