Haunted Wood there is a light

sólhárr inclined his head in acknowledgment, his eyes gleaming with a touch of curiosity as he took in her words. her accent wrapped around his name like vines on stone—foreign, yet pleasing. he let her voice settle between them before he replied, piecing together his response with care, his deep voice rumbling through each syllable.

travel… far, he said, gesturing slightly to the horizon, as though the breadth of his journey could be held in a single motion. north. vetrfjörðr. long way.

he paused, catching her cheeky grin, a flicker of amusement sparking in his gaze. he let a rare smile tug at the corner of his mouth, brief but warm. georgia… pretty name. like fruit. his voice softened as he tried the name, as though testing its weight in his own mouth.

sólhárr tilted his head, studying her with interest. why here? he asked simply, his words blunt but curious, a gentle probing to learn more of this southern woman with the name sweet like fruit.