Neverwinter Forest dannsair sìthiche

Pretty, indeed.

Not the brusque man that did happened upon her—the chiselled form that rivaled a mountain could not be defined with such a dainty word—but the eyes that cast upon her, that was something that sparked a gleaming ember in her own.

He was hardened. His voice a reverberation that once more reminded her of the looming mountains to the west of them. But he was not harsh—not yet.

Demurely, she dipped her muzzle lower, though her eyes did not study him for so long, not without searching the forest he guarded with a trace of longing. “Winter,” she crooned candidly, her voice like smoke. “I seek a home for the winter months, at the least. But your forest—it speaks to me.” She tilts her head, bright eyes darting back to him. “Does it speak to you, as well, man of Forneskja?”