Braided Strength

A faint smile answered his assurances that they had fared well enough. She could imagine they were ready to leave the rocks—it wasn’t an incredibly lush land, and prey wasn’t a common thing there. “From what I’ve seen they’re not too badly ruined. I didn’t venture beyond the border, mind, but it seems your lands and the Moorlands under my rule were on the very edge of the blast’s range.”

She was silent for a few breaths as he inquired as to Valhalla’s wellbeing. “There have been a few disappearances, but two of them were already missing prior to the eruption.” That was the truth, but it wasn’t all of it. She didn’t touch on the more recent loss. She didn’t need to show any chinks in her armor to a wolf from a pack that Valhalla could not yet call an ally.

Ayodele came over with another long weft of shimmering white hair tied at one end, and she asked, before taking one end in her teeth, “Is there any need for transportation devices for your move back? We’ve several extra travois, and saplings aren’t too difficult to find to replace them.”

Her teeth clamped tight over the end of the weft as the lemur’s deft fingers worked the hair into a tight, corded braid, though the Spirit’s eyes fixed on Harbringr’s face in query, though she wouldn’t hold anything against him if he declined.

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think