The Heartwood Slowly tears you apart

sólhárr had caught the faint waft of a male’s scent on the mist-laden air, mingling with the earthy dampness left by the morning’s storm. it wasn’t far from forneskja’s grounds, a distance that kept his curiosity sharp but guarded. he moved quietly through the dripping foliage, tracing the scent as it grew stronger, drawing him deeper into the heartwood. soon, he caught sight of the stranger—tall, built like a boulder, his pelt a mix of white and grey that seemed to blend effortlessly with the muted landscape.

with a purposeful stride, sólhárr emerged from the shadows, his blue eyes sharp and assessing. he dipped his head in a brief nod, a gesture of acknowledgment rather than submission, and then spoke, his voice carrying a calm confidence.

hail, stranger. i’m sólhárr of forneskja, he introduced himself, his tone level but with a hint of friendliness. he noted the way the other wolf cleaned himself in the standing pools, clearly preparing to settle in or perhaps hunt. you look strong. would you care to hunt?