Duskfire Glacier uppsaluk

A blunt question—a blunt answer: “No.”

Had he trust in the man before him, he might hav relayed further information on his daughter—for now, Mae was kept close to his heart—she deserved no less.

Silvertongue, now, spoke, demanding the attention of both men. How could she not? Gleaming eyes of bright azure—the curve of a hip that once before she might have jutted out upon her question, had she held onto whom she had been prior.

He withheld a rumble—his eyes drifting from the bright of her gaze that now traced the other man to study him, considering. “Akavir,” he offered—withholding the grimace he felt upon introduction—Swiftcurrent Creek was not flowery.

It was what he preferred.

And then, a look to Silvertongue—unknowing just how she would introduce herself to their current host and potential savior of the moment.