Chimera Fields The echoes of the fallen

He came to a stop a respectful distance away, allowing her the chance to study him as she took in his scent. “Luhtar,” he offered simply, dipping his head in a small greeting. There was a faint buzz of recognition in his eyes as he looked upon her.

The formality of introductions still felt new to him, a habit he hadn’t fully learned to settle into, but he was willing to make the effort. If only for his Hárkonungr. “You are Forneskja, yes?” he added, voice warm and quizzical.

His nostrils, ringed with wet, flared visibly; he inhaled a greedy amount of her scent, noting the underlying presence of Sólhárr. In some attempt to ease the tension that gathered in the both of their pelts, his tail swiped upon the ground as he lowered himself to his thick haunches.

His tongue wetted his nose, a question lighting up within his mind like a bulb. "Talar þú okkar tungu?"