Katja had retreated from her temporary home in the Fjord, avoiding the building storm that ravaged the land on the heels of her journey. From plentiful and restful lands she traveled to the heated and barren, the center of a desert. She was well-suited to the grueling life offered by such harsh lands, but with the hurricanes lashing the south rains had made their way to the normally dry lands, and early rainy season, and the desert being more a survivor than any wolf took full advantage of the weather, the few desert plants blossoming wildly. The viking trotted through the hot, drizzly desert with purpose. She sought the little desert mice that had left their burrows to also take advantage of the rains to stuff themselves on blossoming desert plants and to sip the rains before the hot ground sucked the moisture into itself. They were hardly more than a mouthful, but what was a meal but a series of mouthfuls? "

He was perched atop the antlers of an unfortunate deer cadaver, an eye, shrivled and rotten in?his beak, feeling the warm rain fall over his back and roll off his feathers. How unfortunate that the beast had died before the rain started. An even greater shame that he came across the corpse afer it had dried. He stopped suddenly, his head lifting up to face the clouds and spread his wings "the tide will swallow the damned and freeze over! The prince of Samson's blood will coat the ice and freeze atop it! All will despair, all will bleed! A whore king will rise and bring desolation on his wings! " he croaked. Blind eyes seaching the skies for the source of the voice of doom. Gylton Daphion Speech

The harsh, croaking caw as she passed a dessicated, mummified deer corpse spun the viking in place, ears pinned back against her skull. She was no stranger to the battlefield scavengers and generally their hoarse calls held no interest for her. It was the words the feathered beast spoke, words of doom and spoken in a cant that smacked of prophecy, and it made her skin crawl and raised her fur as though lighning-struck. "What did you say, carrion-eater?" she hissed in cautious demand. Her hackles continued to prickle in superstitious fear, her mercury eyes narrowed as she prowled toward the carcass, though otherwise she did not show outwardly the emotion, maintaining the strictest control despite her certainty that something supernatural was afoot. ""

His head whipped around to turn in the wolf's general direction. What was it about wolves that gave them such hubris? No wonder Gylton marked them as damned. "What use are ears to those who won't listen?" He spat bitterly. His connection with the gods had been broken, his concentration compromised, he instead returned to the eye in his talons, muttering all the while about etiquette. "That is wrong harbinger. You are our appointed messenger, you must speak to the chaff as well to the golden grains." whispered Daphion, in a voice only Noah heard. He sighed deeply and turned back to the wolf I am no interpreter Alpo*. And neither Gylton nor Daphion wish to repeat themselves through me." He said, an absinthian tone ebbing away at the forced serenity in his voice. With that settled he turned back to his meal, pulling at tendons and nerves to salvage any meat that might have remained on the pellet. Gylton Daphion Speech

*Alpo: An insult used exclusively for wolves derived from a human word associated with dogs, connotative of one too inept to hunt or a boorish wolf in general