Neverwinter Forest dannsair sìthiche

The mountain loomed closer to her—his words low in the stolen dusk light. Her muzzle lifted—higher—higher—not a challenge of the dominance that exuded from him but to tilt her chin and throat fully to him, should he wish to explore more in garnered trust.

“Creideamh sí,” she returned, velvet voice just above a whisper. “The Sidhe bless these woods.  That is what my people would call them, but what of yours?” She says this—eyes tracing the sky as it darkened, wondering if the hovering man dare come closer. “They will need gifts to appease them. Milk from mothers—meat from hunters.”

She gave a soft hm, ears sliding deftly back to a fair crown. “You’ve many questions for me. I seek to listen. I seek for knowledge. I hunt. I pray.” A pause, and then a curl of her lips. “My mending abilities are rudimentary.”

But again, she sought knowledge, in whatever form it was offered.