Duskfire Glacier after midnight

svalla met the woman with a roll of her eyes. was the serf some type of imbecile? perhaps a runt who's mind never fully developed. she felt no pity, but a sense of satisfaction. 

if faust had laid his seed within her and life would follow, his pups were at threat to carry their mother's moronic ways. they would be slow. the cruel part of the wildling woman is delighted by the thought. 

"can you not speak?" came her snort. followed by sharp, harsh eyes. even she, a wildling of the farthest north, had common sense and decent etiquette.

she was growing bored. rapidly, too, but the spot by the fire was nice and she wished not to leave just yet.