Neverwinter Forest Places far away and we're not you and me, but

A sharp feeling darted down her spine, not entirely unpleasant but so foreign that Seastorm wasn't sure what to make of it. She knew, at least, the source: him. Or rather, his reaction to her.

A pelt. And other things, by the bed, The assassin answered, lifting her broken foreleg to rest it against the log as if she meant to join him, or perhaps bully him out of his spot. The pain of the movement reminded her quickly that she could do neither. She let her leg drop instead, and whined plaintively for him to come down.