Deepwood Weald claws

Y’var’la’s eyes glinted as she met his challenge head-on, a subtle smirk curving the corners of her lips. She wasn’t quite used to dirtying her paws with the chase—but something about the way he presented it, as though she could be of use, caught her attention.

It was an interesting proposition—not that she had much of an interest in hunting, but the challenge was always... appealing. Her lips curled into a smile as her eyes locked with his. She tilted her head, letting the soft wind carry her thoughts across the stillness.

“I usually prefer other kinds of pursuits, but," Her gaze flickered over the expanse of the snow-covered landscape, as though testing it, “I suppose I can spare a moment for the Hárkonungr."

Her eyes flicked over his form one last time before she tilted her chin slightly, waiting for him to make his move.  “Lead the way,” she said.