No time to think of consequences

Úlfr waited patiently to see if the woman would answer. He'd met a number of wolves who spoke different languages and he did not yet know if she had understood him. Eventually though she responded, shaking her head. "Ah, just as well. Then I need not ask for permission when hunting." He didn't smell any packs about but there were still roving bands that would get a bit testy about loners hunting their primary prey. The woman asked about his ravens and he stared in surprise as he realized she spoke in the tongue of one of his mothers. Was she from the far north as well? Having been born and raised in Boreas he had never seen the great homeland but had often heard stories of it.

Úlfr quickly regained his composure and barked gently to his ravens to catch their attention, hoping they would listen. "This is Galinn," he nodded to the raven that landed at his right before turning to the one on his left. "And this is Glámr." He did his best to speak the northern tongue, finding some solace in doing so. "Forgive me, but are you from the clans of the far north?"