Larksong Grotto right to bear arms

his name settles in the space between them, but she does not follow immediately. instead, her eyes linger, tracing the strength in his movement, the way the land seems to bend to him with each step. she is no stranger to solitude, but there is something familiar in his presence, something forgotten that calls to her own isolation. a reminder of the wild norths.
she falls in line behind his wider strides. what name does the north give you? bitterness swept across her tongue for a moment. she did not wish to recall the land that claimed her body, her life, her name. back then, she was lunarre, but now, she could choose.
"... anoré." the name slips awkwardly from her mouth, but there's finality in it.
there is a pause as they approach a crudely fashioned hut. he must be with no pack, she reasons, but he must know more. certainly more than she.
"i am unfamiliar with these territories, ulfric." she suddenly says. she felt like a nuisance, bothering the lone recluse who likely had more pressing concerns than a lost dame. but he hadn't dismissed her, not yet,"if you could inform me of any packs..." she frowned, "a place to belong. then i can be on my way."