dancers to a discordant system

The viking wraith slipped through the mist-wreathed forest like just another ghost. Her dark paws made scarcely a sound as she leaped fallen trees and navigated the dark trails to follow the fading scent trail left by her cousin. He didn't need a keeper; he was a Finnvi, a viking, and he could take care of himself... but she knew he'd been ingesting herbs that could be dangerous to take on your own, the sort that could have you chasing your shadow off the edge of a cliff, and so she'd taken it upon herself to watch and look out for him. From a distance, of course, not wanting to ruin his fun because while she might not approve of the mind-altering herbs in general she saw no reason to smother one of the few Finnvi in Alacratia with her ways. She heard his voice and slowed to a stop so there was no crinkle of underbrush to alert him that he was being kept guard over. But he wasn't speaking to just himself and the gods this time, no - a female voice answered him, and Katja stiffened at her words. A subaudible growl vibrated her throat, and the viking continued forward out of the brush to stand beside her cousin. "Heil, Kaprasíus," she murmured, a soft touch of her muzzle to the side of his throat in a gesture of reserved affection as well as a surreptitious check to his heart rate. In Norwegian she continued, "Du synes å ha funnet noe av interesse. Er denne skapningen som plager deg?"