Haunted Wood there is a light

His words came with an effort, the peach noticed. A rumbling voice that sounded in his chest, almost akin to the rumbling of an earthquake. He certainly looked like a man that could move mountains. She shuffled for a moment, making an uncertain facial expression as she peered at the man through thick lashes.

Alright, then. She nodded gently.

The deer would give the two one last look with those beady, tentative eyes, before it trotted off, leaving its scent to remind the woman of the meal she could've taken. But she wasn't hungry, yet, and so the creature would live to see another day. Another word spilt from his lips. It seemed to be prompted by her correcting him: she was no desert fruit, she was a peach. Sweet like one. Pink like one.

Sol-hàrr, she said, the foreign name strange on a southern tongue. It seemed that the name was carved by an accent of his own. One she hadn't heard before, not heard even once during travel—and she was one to get around. Name's Georgia, her tongue enunciating the 'or' sound. It's a pleasure ta meet ya.

She'd adopt a somewhat 'cheeky' grin, then, raising her browbone for a moment when she spoke: What'ya doin' 'round here with a voice like that? Her tone was teasing, and her head tilted in a manner of curiosity. Neva heard a tongue like that before.