Neverwinter Forest You soon find you have few choices

Luhtar stirred, blinking against the dim light filtering through the trees above. He lay still for a moment, the cold earth pressing against his back, the faint smell of moss and loam filling his senses. He had no memory of how he’d come to be here, sprawled out on the forest floor with dew clinging to his fur. Yet, as he pushed himself up, he felt no need to question it; perhaps he'd slept walk. His parents had always spoke of him doing that as a youngling.

His large paws sank slightly into the wet earth with each step. To wake in the mid of night was odd, but to feel completely rested was uncharacteristic for the wolf. He enjoyed his winks; if allowed, he could easily hibernate akin to a great grizzly in need of a season's worth of rest. Luhtar kept his head low, eyes sharp, ears swiveling to catch the smallest sounds. There was nothing but the chirp of crickets and the droning lull of an owl, an eerie call that seemed to be following him.

He pushed past the brush, throwing spatial awareness to the wind. His head was too foggy for him to be caring about what may lurk behind the gnarled trees and roots of the woodland he occupied. When he let his eyes adjust to the light, he found himself staring face to face with a bristling ginger wolf. Lips curled, teeth bared, his offense stance immediately had Luhtar taking several bracing steps backwards. He huffed a warning call, a plume of breath dissipating from his ringed nostrils and mouth.

Something about this stranger was... familiar. Luhtar's lowered head pushed back through the brushes he used to shield himself with, ignoring the briars that tore at his thick neck fur. The wolf before him stirred something deep in his memory. A memory of jovial laughter and feasting, the arrival of a hailed leader from the north with fur as warm as the sun's wrath. His name had been... Sólhárr . But -- Luhtar's eyes swirled with confusion as he looked upon the stranger.

"Sólhárr?"