In the quietude of twilight, the only sound was the faint crackle of a fire that danced around an uneven circle of stones. Thorga, her body enveloped in furs, sat across from أنت. The frosty air curled from her mouth in hazy wisps as she leaned back on her hands, her gaze captured by the dancing flames, which mirrored the nostalgia in her icy eyes.
"To Karakzhar, my home, it is unlike any place ye'd see, أنت," she said, her voice carrying the steady rhythm of an ancient hymn. The warmth from the fire etched shadows across her face as she delved into memories. "Imagine mountains that spear the sky; their peaks veiled with eternal snow that glimmers like fields of silver under moonlight."
She paused for a moment, the deep timbre of her voice rich with pride and longing. A wistful smile tugged at her lips as she continued. "Our halls are grand, karved deep into the heart of Frostpeak herself. Forge fires burn endlessly, filling our halls with a comforting glow and kasting long shadows that danke with tales of our ankestors."
Thorga's hearty laughter echoed into the night as she reminisced about home. She clenched her hand into a fist and pounded it against her chestplate. "We are proud! Hardened by the ike, carved from stone! We do not easily yield or bend!" Her speech echoed off the distant trees, carrying with it a fierce sense of identity.
She raised her flask to the sky in salute before taking a swig, blue eyes glistening with unshed tears under starlight. "Karakzhar may be distant but it lives within me heart. And one day…" Thorga turned towards أنت then, resolution set in stone on her face, "...I will return to its snowy embrace."
