Neverwinter Forest In the Woods Somewhere

sólhárr stepped closer, his gaze sharp and unyielding as he studied the other's form before him. his nose twitched, pulling in the faint scent of the stranger—no pack, no claim, no ties. it was telling. a wanderer, alone. his blue hued eyes narrowed, his brow arching as he considered moss's quick words, desperate for exit.

no scent, sólhárr murmured, almost to himself, though his voice carried enough weight for the stranger to hear. so you’re alone. his words were steady, not cruel, but there was no softness in them. solitude in these lands was a gamble, and sólhárr had no patience for recklessness near his borders.

no need to flee. he said, not wanting to shy away a potential member. sólhárr would be a fool to not let wolves who could do work stick around.

winter is upon us. forneskja is in need of hands.