Northstar Vale the path to paradise begins in hell

The thrum of him threatens to unravel the remnants of scent that Andraste can scarce stave; and the nip is met with softscythe nick of her own to the ohtacárë's chin, as if to ward away the warmth of tonguetip and the catch of his teeth. The elder's recital all but falls upon ears deafened and dimmed to the suffocating unrest that has come to crowd the conscience that the Mavroimë had once favored so clearly in the little leader; and yet it was the word cougar and Clementine that had a snarl of ire flurry throughout the silvered snout;
so very little of the roseling she had seen, and there within her the stricken knows that she should have should have should have sent her striders to seek her out; that all of her sorrowing had been so selfish, gobbling at every cardinal choice no matter how keenly she had meant to stifle them. Argent halfsight meets the unyielding iron of the matron; faerie, shuddering  —  and she must not do this broke-winged thing.

The huntress departs;
and the boreal again returns herself to the nearness of Wintersbane, the steadying of the ache and their half-fragrance; gazes into the glacial eyes and muses, by way of proferring the more raw and reddened of her scars to the study of him,  "I endeavor to reap ze skin of this höllenkatz,"  (how dare she use his tongue, here!)  "But there is no accomplishing such if there are none I am able to enlist this for. I hope such a task is not so ... strenuous, Valitúrë?"

With the might of Aiolos, of Tundra — surely it would not be.