The stranger stirs below him, drawn from whatever tonic state she had slipped into by the sound of his voice. A sigh of relief, faint as a spring breeze, ghosts from his ashen lips. At least she was alive, he thought to himself, and not an unfortunate victim of the island's bitter gales. Dark eyes remain fixed upon her as she pulls herself to her hooves and shakes the snow from her smoky coat, her glacial gaze finding its way towards him through the shadows that enveloped them. The smile that tugs at her lips makes him feel a flutter of nervousness, like a mouse that has been spotted by a prowling cat. Yet he shows no sign of such apprehension, his face a cool mask of concern as he gazes down at her.

'I ain't a lady,' she protests, drawing an amused snort from Emhyr's nose, his own mouth twisting into a half smile. "If you say so." An approximation of a shrug is given, the svelte muscles beneath his onyx coat twitching. 'Sorry... I... I fell asleep.' She says, and Emhyr only shakes his dark crown in response. "No need to be sorry. Falling asleep in these conditions, though, is the kind of thing that will get you killed." In his youthful days, when he spent much of his time exploring the island's every nook and cranny, the young king had often come across the weathered bones of those who had succumbed to Tinuvel's harsh climes, those who were not as fortunate as she to have someone looking out for them.

'I didn't expect the swim here to be so... cold.' At this a soft chuckle falls from the Bay king's lips, though he finds little humor in her misery. Rather, he cannot help but be amused by her astute observation of his home's climate, sparing a glance at the sparse forest around them. "Yes, arctic waters are usually very cold. Never been this far north, I take it?" he asks, tilting his head in her direction. Had he a brow to be furrowed it would have been wrinkled in concern, but as it is all he can do is fix her with a look of curiosity and apprehension. "Where did you come from?"