Inga stirred from her dreams, she could feel a stirring in the air, an electricity that rippled down her spine as her earthen eye's gazed out the opening of her den. Balthazarr and Branwen stood just outside the lip of her den. Their silouettes black against waves of green flame that hung in the sky and her eyes widened. "Norðrljós" she whispered, eyes drinking in the sight as a streak of bright magenta began to appear with the green. Rising from her den she strode out into the chill of the night, the stars lighting up the sky underneath the eerie bands of color. With a grin on her maw she howled for any pack members that might wish to rise and view the lights with her… and perhaps hear a few stories.

Branwen leaned against her left foreleg, Balthazaar against her right as they watched the lights in silent awe.

"Speech"

Inga was old.. but truth be told, so was he. Katja wasn't exactly a spring chicken herself, either. Kaprasius couldn't help but feel drawn to her; she was a kindred spirit, despite their differences. He was certain they had much in common, even if it wasn't readily apparent, and he knew they shared similar ideals. Slowly he stirred awake, aroused from his slumber by the gentle lights that flickered to and fro across his closed eyelids. They lit up the night sky in a lovely palette of colors, purple and green and blue and everything in between. Jaws would unhinge, parting in a wide yawn as he slowly pulled himself upright and slipped from his den.

The night was refreshingly bitter and he shuddered at the sudden cold as he moved into the night. Inga's call was clear and inviting, and with ease he would begin to make his way up the slight incline at the base of the mountain, his nostrils flaring as he searched for her.

"Evening, Inga," he called out amiably to her, his voice heavy with the remnants of sleep that clung to him. "Enjoying the display?" He flashed a toothy grin at her, lazily moving to sit near her and gaze up at the night sky.

Lyndvarr wasn't sure at first why he'd woken. He blinked in the darkness wondering if he'd had some strange dream that had stirred him from his rest but if that were the case sure the phantoms of the dream would be left clinging to the outside of his vision. It was only when he turned his head that he saw lights dancing across the sky. His ears laid back as he watched. For some reason the Northern Lights always set him on edge. He certainly didn't think that strange, shifting fire in the sky was a sign of anything good but he wouldn't let his wariness show. What was it his mother had said bout the Northern Lights? Was it something about dancing spirits? Or were they indeed trails of heavenly fire? Lynd frowned, fighting the rise of sorrow in his chest. Day by day it seemed his mothers voice was drifting farther from him. Her scent fading. He closed his eyes, willing the memories to renew. Lyndvarr sighed. He wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep, he knew that much. So the man got to his feet and slipped out of the den to get a drink when he noticed Inga and Kapra gazing at the sky. Slowly he moved to join them, sitting on the other side of Inga. "God kveld, Kapra, Inga." He paused for a moment before glancing at the pair. "Say Inga… what are those lights in the sky? I mean I know what they're called but what are they?" Walk, "Talk" Think

Eisleif was disturbed by the sound of the howl first, her bright violet gaze would blink open expecting to find darkness but she was greeted with an incredible light. Curiosity would draw her up, and with care she would disturb her sleeping daughter to bring her along. She wasn't sure what kind of meeting this was, but if anyone needed to study up on the ways of their people it was Neith. Her daughter was a viking, she was born into this culture and she wanted her to embrace it like her mother couldn't Neith wasn't against their ways, and she followed them to the best of her ability, but she was not born into viking blood and the connection would never be as strong. She would give a soft smile to each wolf gathered as she came to take a seat by the old story teller. The woman had been a life safer, helping to watch out for her ridiculously adventurous and independent little sleepy head. She'd nudge the bundle of fur a little closer before taking a seat herself. "Good evening," She'd say with a softness that the night seemed to demand. ""

Eisleif had been completely asleep, she slept through the howl, she slept through the lights, she might even have slept through her mother waking her up were she not so persistent. Neith was gentle and soft, a cuddly comfortable reprieve from the life that Eis had been born into. However when her mother wanted to be she would be a brick wall. And Eisleif never won against a brick wall. So with just a little more grumbling the youngling would emerge from the den and let her mother lead her with sleepy eyes to the gathering. She'd see Inga but the other faces didn't register. She wouldn't realize about Kapra's tail just yet. By this time though her thougts would be completely overwhelmed by the lights up above. Her brilliant blue gaze would stare at the beautiful changing swirling colors before her face returned to Inga. What in the world was going on in the sky?
"Shmirsh"

Inga gracefully turned her head at the approach of Kaprasíus and she dipped her head in greeting before offering the man a smile. "Heil, Kapra. I am indeed and I appreciate the company. Have you been well?" Her gaze turned back to the lights. She could feel the stirrings of fate within the air, the electric tingle of the gods and spirits of the world at work. Norðrljós stood testament to this in her opinion. Others would soon arrive and Lyndvarr would ask of the lights. Neith was right behind him and with her, her daughter Eisleif. Inga's grin widened. "God kveld, Neith, Eisleif. I am sorry to wake you, I just thought others might wish to view Norðrljós with me."

"Hallo, Lyndvarr. There are many stories of the Norðrljós,the northern lights. It really depends who you ask as to what they will tell you. I have heard some say that they are the edges of the skirts of goddesses, dancing away in the sky but I believe they are glimpses of the Bifröst, the bridge that connects Asgard to our world, to Midgard. Perhaps some of the gods will visit us tonight?" She chuckled lightly. "Has anyone else heard tales of these lights?"

"Speech"

It wasn't surprising that others wanted to show up. The northern lights were a lovely display, and worth missing some sleep over. "Never been better," he commented easily, his tail flicking behind him. A lazy smile fluttered over his lips as he watched Lyndvarr's approach, nodding at him in slow greeting. His question was directed at Inga, and not himself, so he would gladly maintain his serene silence. Neith came next - his nephew's concubine - and she greeted the small group with a polite gentleness that he appreciated. At least she was better than the other woman that Laufey had brought here. The child that followed her was given a long look too; Eisleif looked remarkably similar to Jaeger and he felt his heart clench for a second before he averted his stare, to gaze upon the sky again.

Inga's words were familiar to him. If there was one thing he was familiar with, it was the lore behind his culture - though it was an important lesson for those not as well-versed in such tales, and he was glad to listen to Inga's stories. He settled onto his hindquarters, getting himself comfortable.

She would be distracted from the colors as Inga was quick to greet them, and mention what she'd done. Eisleif might have been groggy but she was far from upset that she'd been led out here. Doing her best to be the greatest viking she could be the young girl would copy Inga's greeting instead of her mother's this time. "God kveld, Inga." She'd reply with another dip of her head. While she was distracted the young she wolf would see the gaze of the scarred Kapra looking down on her. She wouldn't show him her fear, but puffed her chest up and raised her chin like a brave viking would. She had to prove to Stori that she was just as good if not a better viking than he was. Just because his mom was a deity didn't make him any better than her. Those thoughts would be shaken from her head as Inga explained the lights above them. They were the bifrost, the bridge between here and where the gods took up residence. Eisleif would stand quite stoically, obviously feeling a great respect for the sight she'd bear witness to.
"Shmirsh"

Neith had never seen the northern lights either, and the experience would be as new to her as it was her young daughter. The silver marked woman would look up into the bright of the sky as Inga would offer what she knew about them and even asked if anyone had a story to tell. Neith wished she could offer some legend that she had learned in the past, but to her they were an oddity. She would listen and take the information to heart, wondering slightly what they really were. It was nice to think they might be the bridge between here and the heavens, and as Neith sat their contentedly she would accept that explanation as her daughter did. She'd feel herself smiling softly as she shifted her gaze back down to her curious daughter, who was staring up at the lights with wonder. ""

He was not asleep. Nope, surely not. He was doing important things like patrolling the borders and definitely not looking out for coyotes. If coyotes had taken Eislef's tail, maybe they would be a threat to the other pack members too. He would fight them. When Stori heard the call, he came, never one to miss out on a potential story. When he came to the group, the lights above struck his eyes, "Norðrljós?" He inquired. He was sure he had seen them before, but he wasn't fully sure if that was the right name for them. Approaching Inga and the group, Stori would dip his head, "God kveld, everyone."

Inga would talk about the lights, discussing if they were skirts or bridges to the gods. Stori wondered if he could climb it before he died and meet the gods, or if the gods could come down. Maybe even his mother or Odin could come visit then. That would show Eis.

Inga asked if maybe the gods would visit today and Stori's ears perked visibly, "Maybe so. Do you have any guesses? I wonder which god would be the most likely to visit." he chuckled lightly, "Maybe then one of the gods can tell us a story about the gods. Maybe even a new one!" He started up excitedly. His gaze followed the colors, his tail wagging softly. He really wanted to meet a god...

LORD, I AM CLIMBING HIGH MOUNTAINS TRYING TO GET HOME Trying to get home...   Lyndvarr would wonder at Inga's story and eye the dancing fires in the sky, the bifrost? He could remember the story as a child and he could remember running as fast as he could and jumping as if he could land upon the bridge and visit the gods. They seemed close but he knew they were very, very far away. Lynd grinned as he glanced at Stori. "That's a good question. I bet Odin would. They say he disguises himself frequently as a wandering mortal who flits from pack to pack. His ravens Hugin and Munin are surely scouting about the earth." His gaze landed on Balthazaar and Branwen who turned to stare at him quietly before Balthazaar let loose a croaking laugh. "That's right furlings! You better watch what you say. Why I happen to be descended from Munin, it's true!" Lynd grinned at the raven before turning back to Inga.

No one else had any stories to share regarding the northern lights but that didn't really surprise her. They were a great mystery and legends were few and far between. As for stories of the gods, well that was another matter. Numerous were the tales and each different upon each telling. She would smile at Eisleif and Stori, the youngest. "Who knows Stori, the gods may be among us now." She'd chuckle as Balthazaar spoke. "Munin hm? Seems appropriate. Are your cousins bringing word of us back to the gods? It would not surprise me. Perhaps on our next raid you will call to Munin and Hugin and your wings will bear the favor of Odin." Her voice would trail off, eyes still afixed to the sky.

She would turn to Kapra. "Kapra, would you like to tell our youngest of Hugin and Munin or shall I? Or perhaps there are stories others might like to hear about? It is a fine night to revel in the tales of the world and the gods."

"Speech"