Haunted Wood there is a light

sólhárr considered her question, a distant look crossing his eyes as he searched for the right words. his jaw tightened slightly, as though the weight of his homeland was a presence he could feel even now, leagues away.

home… he began, voice low, careful. is mountain. tall—sky high. he lifted his head, as if to show her the height he spoke of. wind… cold, sharp. cuts, like blade. but… he paused, his gaze softening, a hint of warmth in his expression. in spring… warm. flowers come. snow melts. good place… strong.

he tilted his head, catching her gaze again. her smile—a practiced, pleasant thing—almost amused him, but he felt something deeper there. sol… he echoed, testing the name on her tongue. he gave a small nod, a hint of approval. sol… is fine, he said, the words simple but final.

with a brief, approving hum, he looked at her, eyes glinting with the pride and power of his homeland, as though carrying it with him even here.