Neverwinter Forest bound for tennessee

Rökkur.

Yet another man of the north. Even speaking their language, Catamaran could not help but feel out of place. He'd been born to the sea, and that was a different breed no matter how close they'd been to the land of long nights. Solharr, Luhtar, Rökkur — if he dropped the -an from his name, would he fit in any better?

The question slipped easily from his mind as they drew nearer to their prey. He slowed, picking his way carefully through the brush. Low on his belly, he peered out at the gathering of deer. A male with a fearsome rack presided, and several younger bucks still clung to their mothers' sides. It was a young doe that drew his gaze instead. Old enough to have her own fawn, but inexplicably without. There was no physically weak link to pick off — so Catamaran picked her, and indicated this to Rökkur with a tip of his muzzle.

Then, leaving the other male in position, he crept around to a take up his own post. There, he would wait for Rökkur's signal.