Holding On, But Just Barely

The call that cut through the crisp air caught Ásvor off guard. The call was an unfamiliar one, but had an odd air to it that she almost swore she recognized. Maybe old age was just playing tricks on her; that, unfortunately, wouldn't surprise her in the slightest. Rising from the horizontal position near one of the barns that littered the territory, she slowly stretched out her joints and got moving. It took her longer to make her way to Halla's call than it might a wolf quite younger than her. Whoever wanted to see her would just have to deal with her slowness and if they were bothered by it Ásvor would have a few words for them.

Making her way through the snow, once the stranger came into view Ásvor nearly froze. It was Naudir, and yet it wasn't, couldn't be. The likeness was uncanny and briefly stole the breath straight from her lungs, a rarity for the Finnvi, who was rarely caught by surprise by anything. Briefly she even found her thoughts drifting to fantastical notions before she grounded herself back in reality. Further approach told her this was no Naudir, though... the resemblance was unquestionable and she had a feeling she'd soon know who exactly this was. "Ásvor Finnvi," she introduced herself succinctly as she paused within earshot of the stranger. "What business do you have here?" Despite the air of familiarity she was still on edge, cautious of this stranger who had waltzed past the border and somewhat standoffish, fully willing to take care of this situation herself if the need arose.