Ember wanted to continue to make the most of her time in Hemlock and help Delphi whip her wolves into tip top shape. That included making sure the pack's warriors' skills were honed and sharp, ready to respond to a threat at a moment's notice. With spring having come and melted away all the snow and ice of winter, much of the Fenrir mountains had returned to their rocky, craggy self, meaning the terrain would be less treacherous for training. It also opened up a new avenue of lessons she could impart onto the Hemlock wolves! Already Ember had some ideas of tactics and techniques she wanted to show them.

One sunny morning, Ember found an open plateau not too high up the mountain that would suit her purposes just right. After making sure the space was clear of any loose rocks or footing hazards, Em tipped her head back and gave a call to any of Hemlock's fighters that wanted a chance to practice some of their dodging techniques to prepare for the next time an enemy showed up in the mountains.

"Ember Carpathius" | "Carpathian"

Styrmir’s a yearling now. a teen. but he feels older, weary in an inherent, bone-deep kind of way that carves deep lines into his face and weighs down his every step. he’s lost much of his initial puppy fat, but in its place is assuage musculature that tends him as bulky and inelegant as ever. Styrmir picks his way to the plateau, following the woman’s call at a brisk trot. the iron scent of blood still clings to him from the previous day, though he’s washed thoroughly since. his offering lies on Her alter, skinned of fur and wrapped in cobweb as instructed. he feels better for it, more settled. he’s held up his end, and now she’ll hold up hers. that’s right, little one. i’ve got you.

Styrmir comes to a halt before the stranger, inclining his head in greeting. “Styrmir Trygg.” he reclines on his haunches, waiting for others to show.

"Styrmir Trygg"