Spirits On Ice

He hadn’t been one to speak all that much the first time they’d met, and he proved just as soft-spoken as before. At least some things didn’t change, she supposed. She hadn’t been glowing like a personification of pure moonlight the last time, but it was gratifying that at least he seemed unphased by the change. His daughter, though, seemed decidedly sure that the Spirit was a frightful sight indeed.

The blizzard slowly began to lose its force, the bite of the wind and the snow it carried gentling, as she studied the pair, then breathed a sigh, ears falling back against her scruff. “I truly wish I could say I’d seen your kin Ignatius since our last encounter, but… I’m afraid the news is the same. No sign.”

Internally, she mourned the loss of a good pack relation. Things had been looking bright for Fyri and Valhallan relations, but… well, it was too late to cry over spilled milk. The best she could do was to offer aid to those who had once been Fyri.

Her eyes flicked over Souzan’s features, watching his reactions as she said, steadily, “When I last encountered former Fyrien wolves, Song and Kirsi, I offered a place to stay in Valhalla if they wished it. That offer still stands, and by extension it is offered to all those who were of Ignatius’ pack. It’s optional, but you and your daughter are welcome to stay for as long as you like. I won’t be offended if you refuse.”

Her lips twitched in a brief smile on the last words. She wasn’t easily offended, in any case. If the north was his home, then it was his home, and she wouldn’t force him to leave it behind, but it would feel right to help him in some way.

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think