Arwen
The forest welcomes me the moment I step beneath its canopy.
The packhouse fades behind me, replaced by the soft hush of leaves and the steady rhythm of the earth beneath my feet. The trees here are different from the ones in Norvegr, but they speak the same language — a quiet, ancient whisper that settles something deep inside my chest.
For the first time in days, I breathe without fear; relief and awe wash over me, loosening a tension I barely realized I carried. It’s so beautiful here. Fenrir must really love Winter to have created this perfect place for her. It resembles Wild Pack only because of the forest. But I can see why Winter wouldn’t be homesick. Gods, you could live in these woods! Well, maybe not unless you’re of the Elven kind.
I came out here alone. Melody said sh
