<div style="text-indent:1em;"><span style="font-size: 110%; line-height: 116%;">Every now and then, she would nod as the elf talked. Brynn was more focused on her blade but she listened. A ghostly trace a smile appeared on her face. "Much rather kick his arse in a fight." She commented, sheathing her weapon as she finally finished sharpening and polishing the blade.</span></div><br/><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;"><span style="font-size: 110%; line-height: 116%;">At the mention of the Lord, Briarwood, she averted her gaze to the noble's tent. Her eyes remained fixed on the tent, the reflection of flames dancing up to the sky in her hazel eyes. The orange lighting and the reflection of the fire made her eyes appear almost golden like the eyes of a wolf as it pursued its prey.</span></div><br/><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;"><span style="font-size: 110%; line-height: 116%;">"I suggest should have a rotation for watching Briarwood, outside the main rotation. Just us three: Ragnar, you, and me." She told her in a hushed tone, making no heed to her words about the wards, she already figured that the runes carved on the trees were for a defensive system.</span></div>