Northstar Vale word of mouth

Non. The response is short, blunt, and thick with the accent of his home. It is winter, our Matriarche is pregnant. Other women too. They were far too busy this time of year. Those expecting children needed care, and those who were not were the one's running around to ensure that care was given.

Wolves come here, but Montagne does not go. He says, gesturing to the border. Come back in late spring if you wish for us to travel.

He grunts, his mother's scolding suddenly ringing in his ear. 'Be more hospitable!' 'Smile more!' 'At least try to act friendly!' He looks down to the wolf. This vale is my maman's. He states. She likes guests, but she is not here. Left to find a sire. He muses, finding the tradition strange when put into his words. We heard her call not long ago, so she will be back soon. Forneskja can visit for diplomacy. She will be hospitable, give wedding gifts.

Not him, but maman would be. She always was.