Spar-Row

There was something damn near religious about this place, and the very weight of it hung around the shadow's head like you wouldn't believe. Nearly intoxicating, Víðarr found it. As with all things that brought him closer to his gods, it made him walk a little taller, stand up a little straighter. Though they were always there, this was one of the places where they could see him best. He had to make a good impression. Víðarr had to make it count.

A call for no one in particular-- it just so happened that Víðarr was no one in particular. Well, at least to Sparrow he was. The shadow drew to an amenable distance, dipping his muzzle for just a moment in lieu of a greeting. "On your move," accent heavily coloring his words, but it was clear enough. He carefully placed his feet on the rough ground and steadied himself, as prepared as possible for whatever came next.

"Viðarr"