Neverwinter Forest get on up again,

Luhtar trailed behind Solharr, his movements still sluggish as the chill of dawn worked its way through his thick fur. Each step dragged just a bit before finding its rhythm, and his breath fogged in the morning air. His ears twitched at Solharr’s quip, the older wolf’s words lighting a spark of mild irritation in his chest. It wasn’t biting, but it was enough to prod Luhtar’s pride. He snorted, a puff of condensation rising before him as he quickened his pace to fall into step beside Solharr.

“I’ve yet to meet land sharper than me,” he replied, his tone dry, the corner of his mouth quirking upward in a lopsided grin. His Common was rough and clipped, but he leaned into it, the accent thick as he added, “Though… don’t know. You show me more.”

His gaze drifted outward as they walked, taking in the quiet stretch of Forneskja’s territory. The trees here were tall and unfamiliar, their branches gnarled. The air had a bite, though it lacked the teeth of the northern winds he’d grown up with. It was calmer, quieter, like it was holding its breath.

He wasn’t sure if he liked that.

The stillness unnerved him, made his ears twitch as if he could coax the forest into speaking.

He glanced at Solharr, the older wolf’s stride steady and assured. Luhtar’s lips pressed into a thin line, words hovering just at the edge of his tongue before he shoved them back down. He didn’t want to sound weak, and he definitely didn’t want to sound lost. Not here. Not now. Instead, he focused on his footing, forcing himself to match Solharr’s pace without stumbling.

After a beat, he muttered, “This place. It… good land.” He gestured vaguely with his muzzle, his yellow eyes narrowing slightly as he surveyed the path ahead. “But quiet. Too quiet. North, there always noise. Wind, storms… life. Here, it feels… hm.”