Neverwinter Forest get on up again,

sólhárr’s stride remained steady, his eyes on the path ahead, but his ears turned toward luhtar’s words. the younger wolf’s bluntness brought a faint smirk to the hárkonungr’s face, though his response was measured.

peace doesn’t make you soft, he said after a moment, his voice low but carrying weight. peace gives you the strength to keep going. it lets you mend what’s been broken. rebuild what’s been lost. but you have to guard it, same as anything else.

his amber gaze shifted to the forest, the towering trees and the soft undergrowth swaying with a gentle breeze. it was quiet, yes, but it wasn’t lifeless. there was always movement, always something stirring, even if it wasn’t as loud or relentless as the north. the north shapes you, sharpens you, he admitted. but this place… it’s a different kind of strength. not one made of storms and ice, but one that endures through patience.

his gaze flicked to luhtar, reading the restless energy in his steps and the constant swivel of his ears. he admired the younger wolf’s vigilance but saw the wear it brought. i’ve seen peace, yes. but i’ve also seen what happens when wolves don’t have it—when they’re so used to fighting, they forget how to stop. that’s no life, luhtar.

he let the words hang in the air for a moment before his lips curled faintly, a glint of wry humor in his eyes. but you’re right—it doesn’t last. so maybe that’s why it’s worth savoring when you find it.