Firestone Hot Springs i could love you

A low sound of agreement vibrates his throat, most accurately described as a hum. Ears flicker at the words the girl spoke, noting the familiarity of the sounds and syllables, wondering idly if there was any relation to the language Viola was due to teach him. This one speaks many tongues. All the words of my people, and theirs before them. Tartok and Nordic, both cultures weaving together in impossible ways that had eventually given way to form the man that now stood here, tending to the very wolf he had nearly killed.

A glance was given to the herb that lay untouched, mouth setting in a firm line. Chew, girl. It is to stem the flow. Unless she wanted to bleed out to death, though why she would let such a poor battle fell her, Stjornnuati was not sure.