Bearclaw Valley Jakt

The mixed one nodded. Eventyr offered a thin-lipped smile that did not reach her eyes.

You need not worry about me. But I cannot speak for any others who have followed the ravens to these lands. Even still, some part of her felt the familiar distaste bubbling in the back of her throat. Eventyr had not wanted to go to war, but she had still been raised by her people. Their culture was part of her very core. Though she might not draw her fang to attack the cursed one, she felt an uneasy energy surrounding her.

Which clan do you belong with?

With a coat that mixed, she could have belonged to either Svartravn or Kvitravn. It was surprising that she had been allowed to live into adulthood. Eventyr could not think why they would have allowed it. It intrigued her to linger for a while longer.