Neverwinter Forest morsgol

Winter encased the forest much like a snow globe—decadent and ethereal in a way that any could appreciate, surely, but to the fae-wolf, nothing more could compare to it.

Still, it did not settle the restlessness that crawled along her skin.

Studying the wolves of Forneskja had given her a moment of internal resilience and introspect. They enthralled her—but she was not one of them—though such a truth did not sadden her.

When honeyed eyes caught the proud form of the newly wedded man, a wisp of a smile pulled at her lips, despite the gleam in his eyes and the clench of muscle upon his features. She did not watch him long—instead, the wisp of a woman trailed closer, quietly settling a respectful distance to the man she had chosen as a leader for her—her own head bowing lower as she looked to the direction he sought now—her quiet an invitation to share what was on his mind in this moment.