they lash out with ferocious force

Divinity is something different when your gods are living, breathing and walking among you. They'd show themselves differently, at different times, in different places. They'd arrive, come and go, travelers and others. There was a reason that Viðarr believed so strongly in showing kindness to wanderers, to strangers. You can never be too certain who exactly is disguising themselves as a wanderer. Hell, even if it was Loki himself, at least they were in for a good time. Whatever the fates had in store for the shadow, he trusted in them. What will be, will be.

With long strides that seem to eat the ground at his feet, the man draws to the secluded pond. At first, he addresses the stranger with a nod. Viðarr dipped his head for a drink, sating his thirst before speaking for real. "Tja," he greets, tone friendly but flat. Maybe it was too casual a greeting for a stranger, but he didn't care. "Hunt with me," he calls, watching the man's show of displeasure at the texture and flavor of fish. The shadow didn't blame him. "We find something better." Viðarr took to his feet once more, turning towards the rest of the forest and shooting a glance over his shoulder as if to ask coming?

"Viðarr"