Neverwinter Forest You soon find you have few choices

His own name falling from the lips of the then stranger was all the confirmation that the wolf needed. A ripple of recognition passed through him; it started with his eyes that slowly unglazed, his stance that unstiffened, and his fur that no longer bristled with alarm. He spoke again, this time, almost sounding relieved. Perhaps he had forgotten just how alone he'd felt before. "How?" Visibly confused, he looked to the other for answers he didn't have himself, his shoulders rising and falling with his hurried breaths.

Being exiled from Huldfall felt like a distant, but painful thing. He remembered all of it. The shame, the ridicule. Being outcasted from his own family. "You are no Svarthjalm." They had taunted. His own mother and father refused to look him in the eye. The girl he had been sweet on buried her face into the chest of another. But none of that mattered anymore -- not in comparison to the molten hot embarassment that spread across his skin.

Did Sólhárr know? Had news of his shame reached even Vetrfjörðr? If he did know, it didn't show in the way he looked at Luhtar. He took a steadying breath, before his gaze hesitantly tore from the jarl to the den he guarded. "Where... are we? Am I in Vetrfjörðr?"