Larksong Grotto right to bear arms

she notices him—he is not surprised—and speaks. and taken by surprise, even though he knows he should not be, his ears lift and he clears his throat. yes. turning his gaze inland. her voice is gruff with the same accent as he, and he takes a step closer.
you are a norseman? he questions, lip twitching with something unknown. do you speak our tongue?
he takes the time to further look at the woman. she stands upon long legs, each coiled with feminine muscle; and her body shaped by winter's kiss. ulfric closes the distance that claims between them and jerks his head towards the trail of the doe.
he takes to speaking their shared tongue now that he's been given a reply. she has settled near. sick. an easy kill. he speaks the obvious. an easy meal? he asks.