The Finnvi had grown... bored by the monotony of just surviving. The world had gone stale and slow since she had claimed the young girl as a slave and triumphed in battle over the russet bitch. The white wraith of the forest had vanished, as had - disappointingly - the son with so much potential who looked so much like Katja herself. The Olympus woman had disappeared again long ago, and without adversity Katja felt like she herself was growing stale and slow. It was a disconcerting and infuriating feeling - Freya surely gazed at her with disappointment and disdain. She could not allow this to continue.
Leaving Kapra with their growing band of outlaws, Katja set off on her own to train her body back to the rigorous standards she'd kept until coming to this soft, lackadaisical land. Her long, ceaseless journey to this strange land had hardened her body and increased her endurance, and the unfamiliarity of the land and its strange beasts had provided an element of danger to the journey itself that had given practice to reflexes and senses dulled by inactivity, but she wanted more. The gods demanded more of her. But what? What could they want of her here?
