Neverwinter Forest eat your heart,

he arrives from his conversation with the king, in which he had asked of sögumaðr's opinion of the læknir, before revealing something that he, in fact, had not been aware of. though he felt it right to do what he must upon the path that was laid before him by the gods, and a sense that it was only sensible for both wolves of the ironbark circle to bring forth children, he could not help but feel a twinge of ... betrayal was too harsh a word, nor was he frustrated. but ... he could only wish to have heard it from her.

his ... betrothed. was that a suitable term?

it was now that rökkur approached the dragon woman, his steps heavy, telling of his approach long before the low chuff he delivered did. she is gathering herbs, he notices, and a soft hum, a lilting tune, swathes the lands in a golden peace, the shifting light hitting her sky-silver fur and painting her in an almost ethereal scene. he lifts his voice, then, though he is careful in his tone, wishing not to disrupt the peace hand-crafted by the woman before him: íruna, comes the rumble of a word ; a single murmur.

rökkur moves to nose against the crown of her head, listening to her hum. what tune is that? he queries, though there was something that laced his question, something that was soon to come, something of more importance. a question he had yet to ask.

why didn't you tell me?