After her brief scuffle with Róta she had finished up the remainder of her prayer and set forth alone along the strange wall that border the area. It was quite tall, the top ridge far higher than her own legs could permit her to reach, but she had found a crumbled section and gracefully climbed her way up to the top. For a short while Iðunn had slowly walked along the wall, her icy blue gaze flitting between both sides, always on the lookout for a meal, or something that gleaned her interest. When the sun was fully up in the sky, still very much early in the morning, she lowered herself onto her stomach, front paws hanging over the edge of the wall. She gazed out to the woods beyond with a keen eye, ready to just settle down and observe for a few hours with a calm mind. The effects of the psychedelic mushrooms were still present, and if she closed her eyes she could still feel that lightness in the back of her mind, and she wanted to use that to still her thoughts and focus her mind on the world around her, almost like in a sort of trance, but still aware of things that were happening. Iðunn finally lowered her head onto her front legs, one ear flicked behind her and the other facing forward as she watched the birds and critters amongst the trees and grasses in the distance, intent on staying that way for many hours before she set out on her tasks for the day.

The scuffles among family were just that-- family business. Sanngriðr wasn't fussed. Things were turbulent here, but in turbulence there was calm. She would be concerned with anything less. They would squabble, and then handle it, nearly on repeat. Always on repeat. As they settled around the wall and took to resting, Sanngriðr was grateful for the peace that seemed to have come on. She woke early, these mornings. Beside her, Víðarr snored on. Their rest had come easier here, farther and farther from the home they'd stolen away from. It was clear that Sanngriðr was less stressed, less worried. The sun was up, beginning to shatter the evening chill. Though spring was here, she knew not of exactly what the land here held. Still, she'd leave her behemoth of a brother to his rest. Carefully, the valkyrie pushed herself to her paws and strode along the wall. Her pace was easy, a lazy jog. There was no reason to rush, no reason to hurry. They didn't have the same stress upon their shoulders, the same desperation to keep moving. Though strangers in a new world, they were safe here. On careful paws, Sanngriðr hauled herself up on the wall beside her cousin. "Good morning." The words were measured, soft so as not to wake the others despite their distance. "Anything of interest?" Carefully, Sanngriðr rested her chin on her paws. She was grateful for the sun warming her back, and the vantage point their spot upon the wall provided. SANNGRIÐR Kom och hata mig.

*I didn't want to do the translations so I'm using your system looool, just throwing it into italics

The peace and tranquility was shattered by the sound of her cousins voice next to her. Well, shattered was a bit of an extreme word to use. Her meditative-like trance was interrupted by her cousin, but she wasn't as bothered by this interruption in comparison to the antics Róta had decided to get up to earlier that morning. This was far more manageable to deal with, and Sanngriðr was far less chaotic than their younger more feral-acting relative. Sometimes she wondered if Róta had accidentally been switched at birth with some type of large hyena or jackal. Iðunn turned her head to glance sideways at her cousin, offering as much of a dip of her head as she could with the way her chin lay upon her legs. "Blessed be your morning, cousin." Today was a blessed day for them all, for she had prayed to the Goddess of the dawn for a safe and productive day for the group, in the hopes they would be lucky and not face any troubles as they began to settle down around the strange wall. Her gaze returned back to the sparse pines in the distance, and flicked both ears forward to alert Sanngriðr to the small critters up ahead, foraging among the grasses and foliage. Text here "This area is brimming with small prey," she said softly, watching as a hare thumped its back legs on the ground at the hare next to it, as if it was having some sort of argument. "We should have no issues hunting enough prey to eat." And there would be no shortage of small animals for her to offer up during her prayers and rituals, as long as Róta didn't snap them up when she wasn't carefully watching.

Okay, really "shattered" wasn't such a bad word for what Sanngriðr was doing on a morning like this one. Still, she was pleasant enough about it. No, the valkyrie is feral, but she is a much different breed of beast. Much like the jackals, the hyenas, and yet more intense. More terrifying. More genuinely horrifying. Not only that, she embraced it. Held it in her hands, and let herself feel. Yes, the savagery was something that lived in her, and ran beneath the surface at all times. That chaos was a comfort. A comfort like Iðunn's words in their mother tongue. The words of a priestess, as tired as they were to her ears. Sanngriðr was a cynic, but they were still the words of her people. Of the people they'd left behind. Little bits of home, whether she held the same reverence for their pantheon or not. Softly, the girl of rust and shadow hummed to herself. She rested her chin upon her paws, and she too stared out over the wall. Truly, this place was teeming with life. Small prey, small animals... yes, there were so immensely many. "It's for the best, then." Her words were quiet, carrying weight. In her head, Sanngriðr was far away. It was many, many quiet moments before the valkyrie spoke again. "Do you miss it?" The words held weight, dense where they sat between the pair. It was as if they had a life of their own, shaping and forming in real time. This place, at least what Sanngriðr had seen of it so far, reminded her of home. She couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not, not yet. SANNGRIÐR Kom och hata mig.

Iðunn much preferred to speak in her native tongue, finding the lilt and style of it comforting, and the syllables rolled easily off her tongue. Not like the common tongue with its harsher consonants and sounds that she had yet to master yet, and had no intention of ever doing. It was an almost barbaric language in comparison, and if anyone was annoyed at her thick accent she'd tell them to learn a second language and try and sound as fluent as a native speaker. It wasn't an easy feat, which is why she was glad her cousin was happy to converse with her like they had back home, liking not having to think about the words before she spoke. She let out a soft hum of agreement at the statement. Yes, it was. This place was not all too different from the lands back home, if a little warmer than what she was used to, but as long as they didn't stray too far south it would be alright. Any further and she would daresay they'd overheat come the summer months. She made no further attempt at speaking, instead allowing the silence to stretch on between them, content to simply observe as they lay down together. Words weren't always necessary in her mind, sometimes it was just enough to simply exist in close proximity to the others. When Sanngriðr spoke up again, she let out a soft sigh, almost physically feeling the weight of the meaning behind the question. Of course she missed home, it was where she had opened her religious connection with the old gods for the first time, and where she grew up surrounded by her family. She missed the comfort of knowing everyone, what they did day in and day out, and the safety that came with being at home. Out here there was danger at every corner, and only time would tell if they would be successful in making a new home for themselves. She took a few moments to think over her words, mulling over what to say to her cousin. Iðunn deeply missed being able to pray with the rest of the priests and priestesses, and there would be no feeling or occasion that could ever match what she had felt when they harmonised their voices and desires in an attempt to communicate with the old gods. Here she was alone, more alone than the others could think, for she felt almost cut off from the others. They didn't understand the connection she had to the Gods and Goddesses, not like her fellow Blótgyðiur had. But it simply was for the best, for even her deep faith did not blind her to the line her family had decided to cross in their attempt to please the old gods. "Yes," she finally said, now lifting her head to look at Sanngriðr, an even more serious expression on her face than normal. "I think about it every day... but I believe we made the right decision in leaving." Iðunn stared at her cousin, ears twitching forward as she settled into her new position. "Do you?" She knew her cousin didn't have the same level of faith that she did, being the more cynical wolf of the group, and wondered what her cousin missed about home, not that she was about to ask. Perhaps some things were better left unsaid and unasked, lest the answer reveal something that was best left unknown.

The mother tongue. For now, it would be the way they could keep things... keep things to themselves. They could speak among themselves in a crowd, and it struck Sanngriðr that she'd need to teach Barghest one of these days. He had become family too, as strange as it was. He would need to learn. The valkyrie wasn't the best teacher, being sharp of tongue and easily frustrated, but that was fine. Hopefully he would understand. Family affairs could stay among them, and Sanngriðr wouldn't need to translate-- ideal. That, and she would spend more time with him. Danger. That was true, there was danger around pretty much every turn here. Danger, but it made her feel alive. It made Sanngriðr feel as if she was doing something that really and truly mattered. She would protect her family, and she would keep them safe. More than safe. She would be the thing that kept them safe and whole and together. Together was what mattered above all. If they were together, they could do anything. Survive anything. Overcome anything. They'd already taken on odds that were beyond any reasonable ones. They'd come this far. Together, they could continue on. That was safe, and that was reasonable. That was good. Iðunn was more tied to their homeland than the valkyrie had ever been. It made sense, given their chosen paths. Though Sanngriðr was a cynic, she still had... feelings. Thoughts and questions that would easier be answered while they were surrounded by those who'd raised them. There was a lot of pressure on her shoulders, resting around her neck, but she'd chosen this. She'd chosen this for herself, and she'd gotten the others to come along. She was responsible for this now. Her chin rested on her paws as her cousin spoke, studying the land at large. "Some days," the words were quiet. Her gaze fixed on the forest ahead of her, though not really seeing. The forest before her wasn't the important thing. No, in her mind, she was walking back through the forest of their homeland. "My mother, more than anything." Her mother, the woman who'd passed when she was only a yearling. A legendary fighter, absolutely legendary... going down in battle. If the old gods were to be believed, then the woman dined in Valhalla. Why had the gods taken her in the first place? Losing her mother had turned Sanngriðr harder, cynical, and serious. "I'm glad we left." The words came with confidence, conviction. The softness in Sanngriðr's thoughts of her mother, the softness from moments before, evaporated. No, she couldn't have stayed there. Not with the things going on. She didn't want her siblings brought up in that space, that environment. It wasn't safe. It was nowhere near safe for them, and the valkyrie needed them to stay safe. Running off as they had. That was safety. That was real. SANNGRIÐR Kom och hata mig.

Sanngriðr was quiet, almost oddly so for the more fiery woman, but there were intense emotions and feelings attached to their words as they spoke, offering up just a slice of their intimate thoughts to each other. Iðunn was quite a secretive wolf, not often sharing her thoughts aloud except when prompted, or in the rare cases when she felt the desire to do so, but it was nice, in a way, to speak so openly with her cousin. Their relationship wasn't the smoothest, and there were definitely some tumultuous moments between them, but in the end they were on the same side, and that gave them something to hold onto to keep their relationship stable. Her cousin spoke, but her focus was on the trees beyond, even as Iðunn continued to stare intently at her. A soft noise passed her lips as Sanngriðr mentioned her mother, not quite a sigh, not quite a gasp. Her cousins mother had been an exceptional wolf, an inspiration to all the young girls back home that they could be as fierce a warrior as any, to which Sanngriðr had taken after wholly in spirit and tenacity. The woman had been taken from them too early, but Iðunn didn't see it as sad, for clearly Óðinn had needed the strength and cunning of a legendary warrior in another realm to have taken her so swiftly and unannounced. He always had a plan for them, even if he didn't reveal it to his followers, and she would never question his decisions on who passed on to fight on in Valhalla, or beyond in another realm. She knew her cousin viewed faith differently, and so bit down on her tongue to stop herself from saying what she wanted. She didn't want to anger her cousin, and so kept quiet as she sent off a silent prayer in her mind to Óðinn that he was making good use of Sanngriðr's mother's skills as a fierce warrior, wherever he had taken her to. Her cousin's next words were filled with a much greater intensity, almost startling so, and Iðunn's ears twitched back momentarily at the sudden chance of atmosphere between them. The air was thick with unspoken words and feelings, and had she been a thin-skinned wolf she might have caved to the pressure and said all the things she wanted to, but she kept a firm hold on it all. There was a time and a place to relieve oneself of all that, and this was not that, not here with a cousin who, even after a year of running with, she was only really letting her walls down around. "Is Viðarr?" Her brother held a much softer spot in her heart, for he shared her own strong connection to their faith and religion that the others didn't seem to have as much. She knew he wasn't aware of what was really happening back home, none of the others knew, and Sanngriðr had been very explicit in making sure she didn't tell them, accidentally or not. But it did make her wonder if the rest of her cousins were as happy with being suddenly whisked away in the night off to live in a strange world, away from everything they had ever known.

Warriors fall in battle. Warriors go to Valhalla. That was the natural order of things. That was how things worked. It was their destiny. As long as they kept fighting, as long as they kept believing, that was how things would be. Sanngriðr knew she was meant to find solace in that, but it was easier said than done. She'd been a yearling when her mother fell. Combat, glorious combat, had taken her down. She died doing what she loved... she left behind one daughter. That was all. Just... just her. Sanngriðr was left feeling like it wasn't fair. A shieldmaiden was destined to die in battle, but so early? She didn't have time to grieve. She didn't have time to mourn. Mourning would have been weakness. Weakness gets you killed. Vulnerability gets you killed. Her father had moved on nearly immediately, elevating his favorite concubine to the place by his side. It wasn't long before her younger siblings were born... Sanngriðr never had the chance to recover. She couldn't mourn. She couldn't take the chance to process things, just... she had to move on. Trust the gods, but they were so... so cruel. How could she trust gods that required blood, the blood of the innocent? How could she trust the gods that took her mother away? Supposedly it was their destiny, but maybe the valkyrie could rewrite hers. She had to. Sitting beside the young priestess in the quiet of the grey morning, Sanngriðr attempted to let herself feel. Why was it so hard? Why was everything so fucked up? Why was she so angry? The anger had made a home in her chest, and it was one of the things that drove her nearly mad. Maybe it would, in time. Maybe in time she'd truly lose it... but whatever. Sanngriðr could go mad. Any of them that lived long enough would lose their shit in the end. Maybe she was a timebomb. Scratch that-- she was absolutely a timebomb, ticking away in the background. Some day the girl would go off, but it wasn't today. It wasn't... it wasn't now. Is Viðarr? The question came, and the valkyrie sighed softly. The silence stretched long between them. Had Sanngriðr been selfish to take them all away from their family? From their home? She'd wanted to protect them, and had done that the only way she knew how. Her brother was too tenderhearted, too trusting in their faith, to learn what was really happening underneath it all. He couldn't know. He could never know. "It seems so." Sanngriðr was pensive. "He rarely speaks." It was hard to tell what he was feeling, what he was thinking. Getting Viðarr to speak on his feelings was nearly unheard of. It was simply not an option. SANNGRIÐR Kom och hata mig.

Her question was met with an extended silence, and had Iðunn not still been staring at her cousin she would have assumed the woman had left. She knew Viðarr was a bit of a touchy subject for her cousin, especially given how... soft he could be at times, but Iðunn had no qualms about bringing it up, discreetly or otherwise. A soft grunt escaped her at the response she received, finally turning her head to look back at the trees in the distance. He was more quiet than majority of the group, but she liked that about him, even if she was unsure of what was really going on in his mind. A sigh of her own left her lips as she placed her chin upon her legs again, tail curling up by her side. The effects of the mushrooms were wearing off now, signalling that it was almost time for her to get to work for the day. But as to what she was going to do, that was still undecided as of yet. Perhaps... well, it was worth asking her cousin first, as she didn't want to overstep any boundaries. "Would you like me to try and speak with him?" Her and Viðarr both had a strong faith connection, and she could use that to test the waters and maybe try and get him to open up just a bit about what he was feeling. But only if Sanngriðr allowed her, seeing as the two of them were siblings, and Iðunn was only their cousin by the blood shared between their respective fathers.

Viðarr was far softer than even he realized, and she knew it. The valkyrie had recognized it in her younger brother, a certain weakness... one that wasn't going to be tolerated back home. They'd kill that in him, or well... he'd lose. He'd lose. He would lose out on the life that Sanngriðr knew he should have. She didn't want to lose it, or lose him. Seeing him broken by their ways, or seeing him destroyed entirely... Sanngriðr wasn't going to do that. It was among the reasons they'd stolen away. He was strong, but he was strong in other ways. Ways they'd never understand. Taking all of her younger siblings and leaving... it was for their own good. All of them. The society that had turned them out, they were doing things that she could not and would not stand for. Sanngriðr stood by her decision, and always would. Iðunn's sigh was soft, bringing the valkyrie out of her head. It was so loud within sometimes. Would you like me to try and speak with him? the question came, and for a long moment, she considered. There was still a deep seated, long held concern that her cousin would let slip some of the truer nature of their family members. Yes, a worry there but... well, maybe it could help. Though Sanngriðr's faith had waned, her brother's was still so immense. Softly, she nodded before speaking. "That could be good." They were quiet words, an admission that hung between the two of them in the air... yes, it would do them well to speak on it. Even Sanngriðr could agree to that. "I should do something about breakfast." The words were quiet, and without ceremony she stepped from the wall. Landing on careful paws, she broke the sedentary moment. Putting herself to work always felt better than anything else. So she would be. SANNGRIÐR Kom och hata mig.

Her cousin took some time, presumably to think over the question she had posed, before finally offering up words of tentative agreement. So it was settled then. She'd take a few days to think over what she wanted to say to him, maybe figure out how to best broach the subject, and potentially even start with an offering of some sort to soften him up a bit. This place was as close to home as they could probably get, so she had an inkling that he could be happy here, once they worked the land and built up a proper and more official territory. But to get him to actually admit those feelings? It was going to be tough. Iðunn was so deep in thought that she almost missed her cousins next words, giving just a quick glance over her shoulder at Sanngriðr's retreating form. Yes, breakfast was a good idea, but not necessary for the two of them to handle it together. There were other things she could do that needed to be done sooner rather than later, and if her cousin was in need of assistance afterwards then she'd offer up some help. "Careful with Róta, she might steal it." Her words had a touch of humour to them as she stood up, leaning backwards in a deep stretch. Perhaps she could look for something to soften up the spots they slept on during the night, such as pelts or moss. Yes, that was a good idea. She lightly stepped down from the wall, landing with a soft thud on the ground, and ever so softly brushed her shoulder against Sanngriðr's with a light hum under her breath. "I'll see about making our beds more comfortable, perhaps it'll make everyone feel more at ease here." And with that she began to briskly pad away from the wall, her keen gaze already on the lookout for anything soft that they could lay on.

~exit

Sanngriðr sighed softly to herself, her mind somewhere far away. It was hard to process all the things that they needed to do, that they needed to consider. They were finally far enough from their homeland that they could really relax. A year's travels... no one would have followed them for that long. In reality, they'd likely forgotten the fugitives as soon as the next pups had been born. As soon as the next sa-- no. The valkyrie wouldn't allow those thoughts to cloud her mind. It would upset her too greatly, and put her in too sour a mood. She'd simply push them away, and think of something, anything else. Sanngriðr would do her best, and would keep doing her best, for her family. "I'll just make her help me, would serve her right," Sanngriðr offered a cheeky wink and a soft sigh. Her younger sister had been a bit out of hand lately. Maybe she'd need to speak with the girl and get to the bottom of it, but... well, that would likely require a higher degree of emotional intelligence than the valkyrie really had the brain power for. "I'll give a yell if anything like that cat from the other day shows up," she warned, nodding to Iðunn. It had been a weird experience, the lynx seeming to not have all of its faculties in order. Her cousin spoke of making their camp more comfortable, and putting everyone more at ease. That... that actually sounded nice. Whatever the valkyrie caught for breakfast, they could add it to the pile of skins and furs. Right. Maybe this really could be a home. SANNGRIÐR Kom och hata mig.