Hoshor Plains blood will spill into the gutters and it will stain the morning sun

The northron has never been a tall woman. The screen of grass and the direction of the wind had obscured him from her yet a low rumble causes her ears to swivel alertly. The fae chuffs softly, just loud enough for the hidden one to hear. 

It's not often she comes across strangers near her home but she's not particularly concerned about the male's presence yet. Her family is still close enough to hear a cry for help and there's nothing about the growl that indicated aggression. 

The leader remains in her chosen spot, uncertain if the growl was a call for conversation. If he so desired her company, Liri supposed he would approach and seek it.