|
Yevaud
Yevaud stands slowly, Anarrima had greeted this woman, this apparent human as a friend. He recalled the tales of Ana about her former companions, a woman who was more wolf than person was among those. A druid by birthright as well as by upbringing, at least she wasn't completely human, the very word clung to his mind like sour milk, how he hated it. He said nothing, and moved with the well documented elven quiet to stand by the door, waiting to be noticed, or needed.
|