Fox's Glade crystal rain

A certain fierceness emanated from Eivor—not one of malicious intent, but one that thrived upon the tactic and execution of battle. His eyes swept to her face, the casual uptick of a smirk offered as he gave a sage nod—“I believe you are,” he observed quietly. It was a relief to him, if he were honest—where over a month before, to know a seasoned warrior in the stone lands would have left him concerned.

“Two, maybe three weeks, if one travels sufficiently,” he considered, his gaze lifting to the heavens to consider the timeline. It left a large amount of time for a miscreant group of wolves to infiltrate the valleys inbetween—something to be considered. “Unless we send a patrol to do the perimeters and between the valley—and then another to Muat-riya and then Akashingo. Do you have enough members to do such?”