Neverwinter Forest dannsair sìthiche

“Your words—they are beautiful,” she murmured, her eyes closing now against the warm glow of the sky. She did not fully understand what he meant, and that thrilled her the most—but it was easy to see, the reverence he used with the word seiðkona, this was a beloved.

A mothers milk, soon to be, surely, to delight the spirits.

His song called for her—she felt a shiver of delight course along her spine. The song of their people, no matter the language—never wavered or changed. Kindred.

Finally, her muzzle tipped down once more, and her eyes scanned the forests, waiting to see the what had befallen a mountain that it softened its great expanse.