Neverwinter Forest Keep the knife close while you sleep.

sólhárr held glaukos’s gaze, letting the name settle between them like the weight of old stone.

forneskja, he said, voice carrying the ancient strength of the land itself. the name was as much an invitation as it was a claim. a place carved from the marrow of the earth, bound to the roots of those who called it home.

you’re welcome to join us, he added, the offer edged with a challenge as it lingered in the air. his gaze was steady, measuring, ready to see if this glaukos would accept or if he’d remain only a visitor to these wilds.

he pressed his paw once more against the tooth, then, with a calm deliberation, nudged it back across the soil, his eyes never leaving the other’s.