A Gundarog hissed in fear and hatred, recoiling from her sudden appearance. It grabbed a wickedly barbed spear on instinct, but its companions had yet to attack, so in awe were they at the unexpected and immediate introduction from the strange sorceress. It seemed an undecided thing on what they would do until two of them abased themselves before Kyiriniae'aea, obviously too afraid to speculate. The other two were less decided for a few brief moments, and the one that had grabbed the weapon seemed on the brink of throwing his spear or running. However, it soon dropped its weapon and joined its fellows, just as the third did. 

The Gundarog that had held the baby heard her demands, jitteringly rising, looking at her and trying to speak in its broken northern. "B-Bright Lady? Yes! Yes, Bright Lady we..." It sibilated, unused to speak of the thing they dared not walk under. "The s-s-sun does not touch here, Bright Lady. The shadow of Lord Gorthaur has been cast upon this forest, gnash its wooden bones! Claw it! Bite it! Burn the villages into nothing!" 

It erupted into a brief, psychotic cackled until it realized it was (likely) speaking to someone who could obliterate it with a look. It took two steps toward her, moving like some broken misshapen thing. It very well could have been. Many Gundarogs had warts and humps that made their movements queer but did not diminish their effectiveness in killing. No wonder its voice sounded like verbal depression and bloated malice. 

"The Blackwood is forever changed, yes. Long ago when Gorthaur had first arrived, he brought the realm of shadow with him. Now shadow lingers until the unmaking the world..." 

"What does the Bright Lady command!?" One of the bowed ones cried out, shrill in pitch. "We can shows you to villages! To towers! Yes, yes Ladies love towers?" 
[@Penny]