Some days it was nice to be out. Víðarr seemed to wander north on instinct and instinct alone. Among the shifting sands of the desert, it was never going to feel like home. That was true. Something in his heart seemed to pull him in one direction and one direction alone. Nearly on autopilot, he wandered with the dogs by his side. It didn't see to be all that long until the cool shade of the Willows blotted out the harsh winter sun. Not long at all. Through the shade and dappled light, the shadow could hear the smallest signs of life. There had to be something out here somewhere, after all. He was alert, eyes bright, head low. If Víðarr could catch some lunch, the three of them would eat well. After eating well it would be time for a nap. That seemed like a reasonable solution in his mind. A nap, a bit more exploring, and then home for supper. All was well and good. The rabbits were quick, that was for sure. The shadow, in all of his hulking glory, had a rough time trying to pin them down. That was alright, and he was alright. It was the fleet feet of his companions that would finally close the gap, snatching up a fat slab of a hare. Finding a stately willow that would protect them on three sides, they settled in to enjoy their meal.

The commotion up ahead caught her attention, and she set forth with a high and swift step, icy blue eyes looking for any signs of movement. Smaller prey could be quite plenty here, even in the colder months, and for that she was greatful. But it appeared someone else was here to feed, or even a few someones.

She rounded a willow tree, coming upon the sight of two large dogs and an even larger wolf swathed in an inky black with silvery highlights on his shoulders and cheeks. He was instantly and undeniably recognizable, and Iðunn found herself simply staring at him for a few moments, silent as the wind that gently tugged at her fur.

Once again she was at a loss for words, just as she had been with Róta, though this time it was less from guilt and more from an emotion that left a sour note in her mouth. Perhaps it had once been anger, but now she was unsure how to describe it with words.

"Víðarr," she finally said softly, though there was a thinness to her lips and a stiffness in her posture. Would he be happy at seeing her after all this time?

He's settled in for lunch, the breeze carrying all sorts of scents through the Willows. There were always strange things on the wind, though this was stranger than usual. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. Maybe it was a playful spirit that didn't know quite the harm it would cause. His thoughts seemed to take him over, and take him to places filled with guilt and self doubt. Though he'd tried to be rock solid, complete, steady... he couldn't always promise that. There were plenty of things he could feel guilty for, and this was chief among them. But the sound of his name on the priestess's tongue... that wasn't a trick. That was real. The dogs by his sides picked their heads up in interest, but did not bristle. The woman in his line of sight wasn't a spirit at all. She was very real, she was very here. "Iðunn," his tone was warm, and he was leaving much unsaid. There were too many things to say, and the shadow was a man of few words. He owes her an apology. He owes her far more than that. Still, he can't find the words. Not now, not yet. "Come, sit, eat." It's an invitation that the shadow can only hope she won't reject outright. Víðarr nudges the hare in her direction, an offering. A peace offering, if she'll have it. A start. Víðarr

His voice was much more welcoming than hers had been, but she could tell he was holding back. She stares silently after his offer, contemplating for only a moment before moving closer. She may be a stubborn wolf, but she was not so obstinate as to refuse a clear attempt at bridging the metaphorical gap between them. That would be edging into the cruel territory, and she was not that type of wolf.

Iðunn settled before him, barely sparing the dogs a glance other than to acknowledge their presence. Her gaze focused on the hare, pulling it closer with a forepaw, yet to saw another word. And she would continue to stay silent until Víðarr could get his thoughts in order. She was here and willing to listen, but had no desire to initiate the discussion they clearly needed to have. But she could wait as long as he needed; she was in no rush.

She took a careful bite of the hare, slowly chewing it as her gaze finally returned to her cousin, ever patient as she always had been.

She's patient in a way that's equal parts comforting and unsettling. Víðarr knows this silence, and he knows her. Still, he lacks the emotional intelligence to well and truly navigate this. The shadow knows that he's out of his depth, and still... and still. He knows that he has to try. He owes her that much. They are blood, and in the same way, they are flesh. Their understanding is something deeper than necessity, it's coded deep within them. Though that may be the case, Víðarr worried that any apology he could give wouldn't be enough. But he needs to try. He studies her for a long moment. Though a bit older, she's still Iðunn. The priestess looks very much the same as she always has. There was comfort in this too, the sameness, the familiarity. His voice is quiet as he finally speaks. "I'm sorry I left you, though he knows that's not the only transgression here. Still, these are the words that come. Víðarr had sworn to lead them, protect them, keep them safe. "I'm sorry that I let you down," and he was. He'd let them all down, left them hanging. From here, he's quiet again. Carefully watching, and ready for whatever reaction may come.