Sunset Valley Harvesting

Her ears flicked—a whisper from the gods, no doubt. She turned abruptly, veering from her course to intercept the path of the tall, brown-skinned man.

Without the slightest ceremony, she breached his space, studying him with sharp, unrelenting scrutiny. What did the gods whisper? Nothing. They remained silent.

En kriger! she proclaimed, casting her findings to the ground for the sake of the conversation. Godt! Du vil hjælpe mig. Her voice was assured, her restless energy palpable as her milky eye traced every sinew of muscle and every strand of fur upon the stranger’s form.

Guderne tier… Du er en mand fuld af mystik. she wondered aloud. At last, she nudged his broad shoulder with a light but insistent headbutt, as if to urge him into motion, before setting off with a fluid stride, head low—like a hunter on the prowl.