Mountains made of clouds

Running into Víðarr time and time again seemed inescapable, and who was she to fight what was meant to be? Kiela had a habit of leaning into things that came naturally to her, not one to seek out other wolves unless they happened across her path, though it seemed her only true friend was an exception to that rule. Perhaps she might not bend over backwards for him but still she went out of her way to seek out his scent, and once she caught wind of it she followed it with even more determination.

Seeing him was like a breath of fresh air. Kiela found an easy grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, a rarity for her. His words were flattering but genuine and she agreed with his sentiments entirely. "As do you. And quite a good morning it is," she commented softly. "A walk sounds nice." Moving alongside him, she matched his stride as they began to trek across the bottom of the ravine. The silence that settled between them momentarily was comfortable, enough so that Kiela could easily bask in it for a long while, but a question was weighing heavily on her mind. "Tell me, are you too heading north for the winter?"