Neverwinter Forest hurting. longing. dancing to disco music.

@Lótë (and the kiddo if wanted <3) — alternatively i can edit to be a RO if that works better too!

He had given her space.

He had heard her sounds those night, smelled the scents that came with it all. In the wake of blood was milk. Strong and comforting. Undeniably inspiring.

While she remained denbound, he often times spent time on the edges of the forest. Fiercely protective of the home she had made here. If the wolves were not of Moonglow or the glade, they would be met with more aggression than he had ever mustered before.

She inspired.

He padded to her den in the dusk of twilight. A bird hung from his jaws, he had worked all day to gather it. A bird for the dove huntress.

He rumbled warmly right outside of her den.