Turning page

Eyrún was hardly the most empathetic of wolves, and she wasn't the best at discerning how they felt - and even then she didn't ever try to cater to how others felt. But Recluse's rising discomfort was palpable even to someone as emotionally stunted as Eyrún. She didn't react to her slight snark, instead shaking her head and beginning to speak slowly and deliberately. She had the sound of someone who was afraid of saying the wrong thing, and afraid of the words that did eventually come out... like they might reveal a truth she was afraid to admit, somehow.

Come on, spit it out, she wanted to say, but she was still and silent as she waited for her to get her point across. Harbringr was dead, she finally said. What a shame. He was a good lay. His death didn't elicit much emotion in her, even if she recognized the grief in Recluse's voice and expression. Part of her, if but for a moment, wondered if Recluse was wrong. Why would the gods have led her here if Harbringr was dead? And yet... her gods had never failed her, nor led her astray. She had no reason to believe they would now. Somewhere at the corner of her vision she could see the form of Huginn, her raven companion, circling in the distance.

"I am..." She fumbled for her words, not wanting to disturb his niece. If she'd ended up here it was for a reason, even if she didn't know the true purpose of this path yet. "Sorry to hear of his passing. I'd be honored to stay. I am but a rogue - and my children deserve a proper place to grow, where food is more plentiful than whatever scraps we manage to find." The life of a lone wolf was not always an easy one. Some days she ate well and others not, but she had no doubt her gods instead her children to grow strong and wild, and she would no deprive them of that, even if the words she spoke sounded foreign on her tongue.