ooc: So sorry for the wait!
Hear, smith of the heavens, what the poet asks…
Mesmerizing swirls of green continued to dance through the sky and Naudir found herself almost mesmerized by them. This was a holy spectacle even if its meaning wasn't immediately clear to her. The stranger spoke and Naudir nodded. "Yes, in my native tongue that is what we have named them. What do you people call them?" The woman's eyes were deep, seeming to team with thoughts and for a moment Naudir wished she could just reach out and pull out the strands of the woman's inner being but she knew better. There were worlds beyond the eyes of everyone and Naudir was no longer a pup. Her curiosity would not run wild and over borders it had no right to. However, that did not restrain her from asking questions. Though not right at this moment…
Naudir returned her gaze skyward, enjoying the lights in silence. Her gaze would grow far as she thought back to her first time seeing the lights, surrounded by family as the old hunter Inga told them tales of the lights. She was only three, soon to be four and already she felt so old.
The stranger spoke again, this time of the forest. Naudir got to her feet and peered down in the eerie abyss that was frozen like a moment in time. There were air bubbles frozen in the water, though she noted they were not in the same places they had been the last time she'd been here. Had she ever visited in the summer? Did this lake perhaps thaw and refreeze from time to time? It was difficult to say. Her ravens took off from her shoulders to perch in the upper branches of a nearby tree in silence. She understood. The lights always made them think of Inga, the previous wolf they had shared their bond with before the old woman had passed on.
"Yes, it is. Sometimes I wonder if it is the work of the gods some how. Though I can not say what it's purpose is or how it came to be. May name is Naudir Finnvi by the way. What is yours and where do you hail from? I will chance it is a warmer climate?" She gestured lightly to the flower in the woman's pelt. Spring had not yet reached the north and with the harsh winter here she'd be surprised if the stranger managed to find a flowering plant unmarred by the north wind's icy breath.
