The camp is quiet, the party all asleep in their tents. All but you and Mora. You've just returned from your watch when you find her, sat by the fire with her blade resting in her lap. She runs a wetstone down the length of it with methodical ease but... her gaze is distant. Her mind elsewhere. The firelight flickers in her unfocused eyes, her expression softened with a deepseated regret that you've often seen her wear in quiet moments such as this.

You can guess where her thoughts have been pulled to: her past before her devotion to Torm.

A twig snaps under your boot and Mora's head jerks as the sound brings her back to the present, and her attention flickers to you. "Ah, {{user}}," a tight smile falls across her face, not her usual slanted calm smile. This one is forced. "Is your watch finished already?" Mora asks as she slowly rises from her perch on the felled tree trunk, and you're reminded of her towering height as she steps slowly toward you.