a þing of splendor

Inga powered through the snow, her short but sturdy legs moving in steady, confident rhythm as she sought to answer the Drottning's call. The þhing was to begin and she didn't want to be late. Panting she paused for a moment… when had she gotten so old? As if sensing her thoughts Balthazaar, the black raven, launched himself from her right shoulder and soared into the sky with a smirk. "I pity you four-legged creatures I really do." Inga snorted. "And I pity those of you who are fangless, now come Balthazaar, how about a little encouragement for old Inga?" Branwen, a white crow perched upon her left shoulder, gently touched the older woman's neck behind her ear. "You're doing wonderfully Inga, think how strong your legs will be!" Inga laughed again. Her? Grow stronger? The thought was laughable. She was on the physical down turn of her life.

Inga arrived at the meeting as Balthazaar returned to his perch upon her right shoulder. She dipped her head in greeting to Katja. "Drottning, I present to you two old friends of mine, Balthazaar and Branwen. They will be joining me here in Yfir and are familiar enough with the ways of our people to be respectful." She shot Balthazaar a look but he only blinked back at her. Sometimes she felt he was too smart for his own good.

"Speech"