Neverwinter Forest forwards beckon

Carving, a craft well known to the Náttfari, there was an eager twinkle in her eyes. It is a good idea. She murmurs, a warm smile on her face while she let her paw drift through the water, the winter breeze seeking already to dry the parts of her that remained above the water.

They will read our stories and see our strength. From her heart, she spoke, and then allowed a short silence to fall between them, filled only by birdsong in the treetops.

I will make my own offering, too. She decides, turning back to the shore where she let her rune fall. A great importance hung on her voice, tender and yet, certain. I will put this rune to rest by the roots of Heimtre, where it can bless all of Forneskja, and not only myself.

Someday, it would be swallowed by the roots, taken into the land and buried. Pangur felt a strange lightness, even despite her attachment.

In a way, she would put her mother to rest here, too. She would've liked the moonflowers.