No time to think of consequences

While he was in Boreas for his mothers' funeral he opted to do some exploring, to clear his mind before the event was to take place. The cool northern air did him good. He'd missed this climate and the terrain that accompanied it. His ravens, Galinn and Glámr, flew above him. Glámr looped through the air before swooping down and pecking at Galinn. Soon the pair were squawking and squabbling as they tumbled through the air. Úlfr kept right on marching, knowing the raven brothers would settle down soon enough. Their spats never lasted long.

He worked his way along the edge of the shore, sniffing here and there for signs of prey or beached sea life that he could scrounge for a quick snack. What he found instead was the scent of another wolf. An older femme with an earthen pelt. "Hail! Are you a native of these lands?"