Whitefish River but I stay outside his reach

sólhárr’s frame stiffened, his single golden eye narrowing as he regarded the woman before him. she was young, soft in a way that marked her as unseasoned, though her name rolled off her tongue with a practiced confidence.

the land ahead, he began, his voice a low rumble, is my home. the domain of forneskja.

he let the weight of his words hang in the air, his gaze steady as he took a slow step forward, claiming the space between them with his presence. it is not for wandering through.

his head tilted slightly, appraising her with quiet curiosity. why does it call to you, hōkūlani halu? he asked, his tone carrying an edge of suspicion but not unkind. he would hear her answer, for the land did not call to just anyone.