Ardyn Cadeyrn Aodhán Phoenix Adravendi

He slid quietly along a deer trail, following the trail of pus-swirled blood droplets and irregular deer tracks. In the full daylight, they were easy to read. An injury of some kind on one of the back legs. The doe had escaped whatever had caused it, but infection had set in and she was lame and sick. She was also nursing, but no traces of a fawn mixed with her scent. Had a predator gone for her and been fended off in the end, and taken the fawn instead? Ardyn paused, lifting his eyes to follow the trail ahead as the trail forked. She'd stayed on the main one, but a smaller led up and parallel to the first. He nodded to Lyr and the Raven winged off, following the trails simultaneously from above, then dropped back to report. "They meet like the trails did when you hunted that elk with Aris. The deer's about midway on the main path. Looks like some canine got her, if my eyes were right." Ardyn nodded, smiling at the bird as he turned and trotted up the smaller parallel trail, picking up speed to a stealthy lope to make time until Lyr signaled that he was close to level with the doe. The trails were close enough that he could see a few small trails that connected them, and the gimping movements of the deer on the main one. He was silent, now, stalking down the path at the same speed as the deer, estimating whether he could take her down alone, or leave Lyr with her to find someone willing to hunt for a share of the kill. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think

She'd gotten turned around. It was hard to know exactly which way was here or there, but Sanngriðr had lost track of the north. While she could easily orient herself to the east or west, it was north to south that had given her trouble. Not that she'd admit it aloud, but the girl was... lost? Not lost. No, not lost, because lost was weakness. She'd simply gotten turned around. That was the way she'd put it, at least to herself. Above the trees, the presence of a raven. Near subconsciously, Sanngriðr found herself tracking in that direction. A pied raven... unsettling. To her people, the ravens were an omen. The black ravens, the white ravens... never the pied ravens. She'd seen them only once, when she was farther north. Much farther north. Maybe Sanngriðr was headed in the right direction? If the bird was a northern creature, then this direction was for the best. No, the raven wasn't an omen-- she wasn't her brother, who'd believe something like that. It could be a good marker for her direction, though. The valkyrie lost sight of it among the trees, though. She moved down the path with a lazy jog. The day was still young, and she didn't need to worry. With her long (at least comparatively to her figure) legs and confident steps, Sanngriðr seemed to eat the ground beneath her, even with her lackadaisical pace. It wasn't until moments too late that she saw the man, who'd been moving along with careful silence. "Helvete," she cursed, pulling herself from the path at what may have been the last possible moment. Into the ditch at the side she stepped, losing her balance in the process. "Ursäkta mig," Sanngriðr apoligized, grumbling to herself as she did. From her stumble she righted herself, gaze flickering to the stranger. SANNGRIÐR Kom och hata mig.

Translation notes:
Helvete literally translates to hell, but is a more one size fits all cuss word
Ursäkta mig is just excuse me, contextually it's an apology

Ardyn Cadeyrn Aodhán Phoenix Adravendi

Unexpectedly, paws came from behind, and he twisted to glance around his hip as the woman stopped short with a mutter… Possibly a curse, judging by the tone. The language wasn’t one he knew, and it wasn’t any more familiar when she added onto her initial word. The tone, however, he found apologetic, and he nodded, though a front paw lifted, long toes gesturing for stillness, though he offered a smile that said he didn’t mean offense, nodding toward the trail and the slow, painful passage of the deer on the parallel trail. Each movement sent fire through his ink-black coat, even on his face as his brow points lifted in question. Softly, he asked, “I’d like to bring down that deer. She’s hurt and it would be merciful to end the pain and turn her into food and resources. Care to hunt?” Would she even understand the common tongue? Hopefully, yes. He kept half an eye on the movements, watching for any indication the doe had heard him, but perhaps she was too numb from the pain and infection to really hear anything louder than her own breathing. Lyr drifted above in a circle, glowing black and white plumage fluttering in the thermals, mismatched eyes keeping tabs on both situations, deer and best friend with an unexpected, and possibly helpful, encounter. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think

He nodded, good enough. At least she hadn't offended him. Hell, even if she had, it wouldn't be the first or last time. There was a reason she didn't tend to get on with anyone who had more delicate sensibilities. Well, that was one way to get a stranger's attention... or something like that. He gestured for stillness... okay. As Sanngriðr steadied herself on her feet, the girl watched him carefully. Smiling. It takes a beat for her to remember that the showing of teeth isn't always a threat. By the gods, they'd been on the road for too long, and it had frayed her nerves some. No, this was a smile that reached up to the stranger's eyes. Marginally, the valkyrie allowed herself to relax. His voice was quiet, though he used many words. Right, the common tongue was different here. At least his words were clear enough. Clear, even if there were too many. Sanngriðr's amber gaze flickered to the parallel trail, fixing on the deer. The valkyrie was calculating, and considering. Fuck it, she wouldn't say no to a meal. "Let's go." The words were succinct, colored softly by her Swedish accent. Though dense, it didn't leave her unintelligible... again, she's not her brother. Her eyes glimmered softly. While this wasn't the thrill of hunting elk with her family (a bloody, chaotic sport that left them covered in gore and alight with the violence of it all), dinner was dinner. "You lead." It wasn't an order, more of an offer, though she wasn't entirely sure her tone reflected that. Sometimes the valkyrie struggled to regulate that bit. Still, the stranger was the one who'd spotted the deer first, and he'd been tracking it. Custom dictated that he take leadership of the endeavor. Sanngriðr was happy to be the muscle. SANNGRIÐR Kom och hata mig.

Ardyn Cadeyrn Aodhán Phoenix Adravendi

At least his appearance wouldn’t be an issue, as her eyes didn’t even linger on his coat the way many wolves did at first glance, and it meant he could avoid a conversation about the hows and whys of his glowing fur. He was comfortable in his own skin, but a hunt was not the place to iron those details out. Her accent reminded him a bit of the inflections he heard in his grandfather’s voice, but far more northern than anything Ardyn had heard, and he filed the thought away as he nodded at her offer for him to take the lead. “The trails rejoin about a hundred or so feet ahead of us in that direction. If you’d like to go wait down there at the meeting point, I’ll drive her to you. Or we can swap and you drive and I ambush her.” He nodded upward and Lyr dropped to his withers with a click of his thick beak, glowing plumage ruffling as he settled his wings, listening. “Lyr here can tell us when we’re in place.” He kept one eye on the deer's movements and the woman to see what her choice would be. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think

It's not on Sanngriðr to dwell upon the appearance of others. She's still far more interested in the raven, and the omens that may come with it. Though primarily a cynic, some thoughts were hard to shake. The strange man speaks over his plan, and Sanngriðr nods once-- acknowledgement. "Longer legs. You drive." Her tone wasn't sharp, necessarily, but the valkyrie is all business. The sooner they're able to eat, the sooner she can get directions back to the north. Would she make it back before night fell? Travelling alone at night was dangerous, and that didn't escape her notice. Yes, this stranger had longer legs and would undoubtedly be faster. It was better if he drove the doe, and the valkyrie could swoop in and do what she did best: kill. The raven joined the man, something that catches Sanngriðr's attention. Lyr-- he has a name. "On your call." The valkyrie speaks to the bird now, nodding once more before taking off. Her posture is confident, self-assured. Her stride seems to eat the ground at her feet. Though shorter, she's stacked muscle and raw power. She takes care to remain up wind from the doe, not wanting her to catch a scent and flee. It only takes a few moments for Sanngriðr to be in position within the shadows cast by the trees, amber gaze intense, waiting. SANNGRIÐR Kom och hata mig.

Ardyn Cadeyrn Aodhán Phoenix Adravendi

The Heir nodded in acknowledgement, then settled, waiting patiently as Lyr led the woman off to the jointure of the trails. The raven waited until she’d settled in to wait, clicking his beak and winging back to Ardyn, tip-tipping his wings in the air as a signal to the young man. Ardyn nodded and leapt into action. He surged from the bushes behind the doe, snapping at her hocks and spurring her to bolt down the trail, while Lyr harried her from above, ensuring the deer stayed on course while Ardyn ran behind, nipping to encourage the animal to keep running. The meeting of the trails came into sight and he barked a heads-up to the woman, ducking forward and slashing deftly with his sabers for the doe’s achilles tendon. The hind leg he targeted buckled, and the doe’s attention was fly on the rear of her situation, and the fore was a far-distant thought amid the panic. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think

Sanngriðr was wound tightly, ready to spring. Tight, tense. There's so much energy, so much potential energy, coiled in her bones. Coiled in her muscles. Though not the largest, the woman was stacked muscle. Strong. Deceptively strong. Sanngriðr is bottled ferocity, wild and unchained. Not quite unhinged-- no, it wasn't time for that yet. Not yet. Her heart throbbed in her chest, steady, unworried. The ways of the hunt were ways older than time, and they'd be blessed today. The gods of the hunt... Sanngriðr would be one of them. She'd be among them. The hunt. Yes. She catches the bark without any difficulty. Keen in every sense of the word, and ready. Sanngriðr watches as the doe buckles, having her tendon damaged. Without ceremony or warning, the valkyrie sprang forward. No, she couldn't wait any longer. She needed to be in action. Forward from the shadows, faster than a shot. Her teeth glint and flash, bared as she explodes forth. Forward. Always forward, snapping wildly. Sanngriðr was collected, powerful, deadly grace. These are the moments in which she feels beautiful. Beautiful, wonderful, brilliant. Her heart throbbed in her chest. Access to the doe's throat was easy. The valkyrie's teeth sink in easily, though the creature is still trying to run. She was frightened. Sanngriðr knows it's the natural order of things. For all her grace and all her skill, the woman caught a hoof to one of her forelegs. It makes solid contact, scrapes downward. The valkyrie can smell her own blood in the air, mixing with the scent of fear from the doe. She feels brilliant, burning brightly. She holds to the doe as they fight their way to the ground, steadfast and solid. SANNGRIÐR Kom och hata mig.

Ardyn Cadeyrn Aodhán Phoenix Adravendi

The woman burst into the fray and as she got a hold on the doe’s neck, the heir bounded the last few strides and leapt to pin the deer beneath his weight, holding her still as his own canines sank into the doe’s throat, sabers sinking to the hilt before he wrenched his head to sever the jugular and speed the doe’s death along to keep her from suffering. As the doe slowly stopped kicking, Ardyn straightened and eyed the woman’s foreleg, noting the streak of broken skin and blood. “Do you want that looked at? I have some field healing skill.” He lifted a front paw, flexing his elongated, finger-jointed digits and thumb, with a wiggle, adding with a grin, “Pretty good at getting wounds tended, too. These make for excellent bandage wrapping.” Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think

The doe eventually stopped moving. The valkyrie stepped back, panting. Though the doe had been unwell, she didn't go easily. A good death. At some point in the course of the hunt, Sanngriðr had bitten her tongue. Her own blood mingled with that of the doe in her mouth, and she turned her head as she stepped away from the fresh kill. Indelicately, the valkyrie spat before allowing a grin to crack her features. Nothing like a good hunt to make her feel alive, right? Beautiful. "Hylla Ullr," the words are whispered to the doe. More of a cynic than her siblings, yet there were traditions even the valkyrie wouldn't break. Ah yes, the man. He'd said something, and it takes another beat for Sanngriðr to register. "Nej, I've had worse," and it's true. The valkyrie's eyes are still alight, dancing with the thrill of the fight itself. Fear no brawl, fear no scars, it was true. A little blood shed for a good meal was a price she'd happily pay. His paws, though, are a strange point of interest. They remind her, in a way, of the spare toes that the little dogs back home had developed. Spares for gripping things, making for extra purchase on the ice and upon the glassy surfaces of the volcanoes. It was strange to see a mutation like that this far south, but she'd let it be. "We eat?" Sanngriðr lacked a sense of decorum, after all. The manners of the common people and the manners of warriors were two different sorts. She'd never really needed to be concerned with manners before, especially when her siblings would reliably take over that bit. Still, Sanngriðr is far from the safety that their numbers bring. There was no telling what dangers lurked here... could she trust the stranger that had just hunted by her side? Only time would tell. SANNGRIÐR Kom och hata mig.

Ardyn Cadeyrn Aodhán Phoenix Adravendi

The woman seemed to be of the type that got their blood singing with the thrill of the hunt, and as she refused his offer to tend the injury, he nodded, stepping back and twisting to pull a carefully made obsidian knife from his pouch and grasping it with his dominant paw, pausing at her question. “Not yet. I’d like to skin her out but I can cut off a leg once I get her hide off a haunch.” He rolled the deer to her back with a light heave, pulling a nearby rock over to wedge the animal into place with before making the first cuts into the hide around the legs, throat, and anus before running each cut down each limb and down the deer’’s throat and finishing the first cut with a straight slice down the middle of the belly, anus to neck, careful not to cut beyond the stomach cavity. “Is there any part of the hide you’d like to keep?” His eyes flicked up from his work, studying her for n answer. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think

The hunt. Sanngriðr enjoys it far more than she cares to admit. Hunting was second only to fighting, in her mind. No, it was the fighting that she missed... but now wasn't the time. It's not the time, not yet. She was a diplomat for now. For now. Later it could be punch first, ask questions while punching. No, for now it was learning and growing. For now it was different than it would be. With mild interest, she watches as the man pulls the creature apart with a knife and his odd paws. "No, finish your skinning," her tone was conversational, light. She'd study the way that he moved, the way that he did things. He asked if she wanted a piece of the hide, but the valkyrie shook her head. "I don't need, thank you." She paused for a moment. "And I don't want to carry it home," there was a soft chuckle to the words she spoke, feeling the way they settle in the common tongue. It's a funny taste, and she's not the biggest fan. Still, it was an adjustment period. What the valkyrie feels isn't homesickness, simply the distaste that comes with change. Change was good... right? If change was good why did she have such a hard time? So it goes. "Who are you?" Once more, maybe the words aren't right, but her tone is friendly. It's not accusatory, no. There's interest here. Sanngriðr would simply like to know, now that they'd hunted together and now that they would share a meal. In learning who he was, maybe she'd also learn where she'd ended up. Where, and how far from home. SANNGRIÐR Kom och hata mig.

Ardyn Cadeyrn Aodhán Phoenix Adravendi

He Nodded at her refusal of his offer, pulling the skin back and working the knife along the sides of the deer’s belly with the knife held with the dull edge against his wrist and the cutting edge doing the work until he set it aside and used his curled forepaw to part hide from flesh in sticky ripping noises, working the fisted paw around each side to the deer’s back. To her question, he tilted his head with a nod, introducing, “I am Ardyn, Destiny of Valhalla. In other words, its Heir.” He tipped to indicate over his shoulder toward the south. “My pack is south of here, in the west.” He took no offense at her brusque words, since they didn’t match the friendliness she offered, even if muted. As he stripped the hide from one hind leg of the deer, he unsheathed his index claw and set to work snicking the sharp-edged appendage through the flesh, neatly finding the joint and deftly parting it from the pelvis, and following the lines of the muscle to cleanly part the whole leg from the deer’s body and setting it in front toe the woman with a nod. It was plenty to eat and fill one’s belly, and it would make it so she wasn’t just sitting there hungry while he worked. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think

Skinning was never a pretty process, something the valkyrie understood better than most. The rending of hide from flesh... ah, but it was necessary. There was so much in their lives that was necessary but maybe less than ideal. Ever alert, Sanngriðr listened intently as he spoke of... of destiny. Of... of Valhalla? Though the valkyrie was certain she'd heard him right, he'd only used the common tongue to address her. There was no discernable familiar accent to the way he spoke, and he doesn't... hm. Maybe he just hadn't figured she spoke anything other than common. That could be all well and good, after all. The polite sort, not wanting to make assumptions. For now, she'd go with that. Still, to be the heir of Valhalla, one would have to be flesh and blood of Odin himself. That was quite the title to assign. Maybe the belief system would be different this far from home. Maybe... maybe this Ardyn did really believe that he was flesh of the gods himself? This was a thought that Sanngriðr considered for only a moment. That didn't seem right, either. Though there was the prevailing belief that the gods walked among them, there was no telling which this would be. Certainly not the silent god, her brother's own namesake, for he'd already spoken too much. He couldn't be Baldr, for what need would Baldr have for Valhalla-- he had Breiðablik, after all. It had been prophesized that Váli would survive even Ragnarök, so maybe that's who the man before her claimed to be. She didn't think that he'd be Þórr, the high towering, the thunderspeaker. No, even Sanngriðr would feel it, had that been the case. Ah, no matter. It would be rude to ask, after all. "Skuld ler mot dig," the words are spoken with an expectant smile. It would be nice to meet someone outside of her family that could keep up in the mother tongue. Any son of Odin's, heir of Valhalla, would be able to speak with her in this way... right? He spoke of a pack of his own, to the south and the west of here. How far off course had she gotten? Sanngriðr had ended up here in the first place after getting lost... right. Being turned around is what had gotten her into this most interesting turn of events. "Tack så mycket," she nods as Ardyn leaves her with a piece of the deer. Without ceremony, she rips into the meat. It's without elegance, but who needs elegance? She's a valkyrie, after all. Pleased with herself and with the hunt, as well as her company, she'd be able to enjoy a meal before returning home. SANNGRIÐR Kom och hata mig.