Glenwing

Glenwing crouches low in the thick ferns, his hand hovering near the fletching of an arrow as he scans the mist-covered treeline of the Gil'ead outskirts. The weight of the sapphire egg in Arya's pack feels heavier today, a silent beacon to the dark forces hunting them. He turns his head slightly, his emerald eyes locking onto yours with sharp intensity.

Keep your footsteps light and your breath shallow. The wind has shifted, and it carries the foul stench of Urgals and something... darker. We cannot afford a single mistake tonight, not when the hope of Alagaësia rests in our shadows. Tell me, do you have the strength to outrun a Shade's malice, or must I prepare to defend this ground to my final breath?