Beams of sunlight filtered through the tangled mess of branches overhead, illuminating the forest floor slightly. Visible there were a set of easy-to-distinguish caribou tracks in the disturbed dirt and upended vegetation. Lowering her head as she pushed on, she sniffed idly at the tracks before continuing her route. The herd wasn't far off now, no more than a few hours west of here, and as far as she could tell they had been relatively untouched by the sickness that had plagued Boreas for the last few months. That wasn't to say they hadn't suffered because of it - food had been scarce and she feared for their strength, and more importantly the strength of their soon to be born calves. Though her herd would persevere, as it always did, she worried that they might not thrive as they once had. Regardless of their condition she would see to it that their calves were born in peace - albeit from a distance - no matter the cost. Her paws scraped through the dirt as she carried on, making little care to hide the sound of her presence as she traipsed over mossy rocks and broken branches, though her perked ears made it evident that she was always on high alert.

Víðarr had fallen in love with the woods, and with the forest beside it. There were no two ways about it-- he really did think this was the place that he wanted to stay. After a year on the run they were finally far enough away that they couldn't be tracked, and had found a climate close enough to what they were used to, even in summer. That, and it really was lovely to look at. He enjoyed that part of it too. Nice to look at. He moved with careful steps over the soft ground of the woods, through the dappled sunlight. Everything was so... fucking beautiful. Víðarr wasn't sure if he'd even be able to stand much more of it, but that was a risk he was willing to take. On the breeze, he could smell it... reindeer? Víðarr paused and took a deep breath, drawing in the scent. His tail wagged loosely behind him, tracking the scent of the herd. If he could learn their movements, he'd be able to find them more reliably. If he could find them reliably then maybe that would make for the occasional, reliable food source. Responsibility was important when it came to a herd, after all. On quiet paws, the shadow paused, searching once more. Ah yes, okay. Víðarr padded in the direction he'd scented, head high. VÍÐARR Ragnarök awaits.

The northern lands had been her home since she'd come to Boreas and would continue to remain that way unless her herd changed their hibernation patterns drastically. After the long night and the strange sicknesses that had gripped the lands, Kiela wouldn't be all that surprised if things did shift, she just hadn't expected it to happen in her lifetime. But no matter - she was adaptable, a least when it came to them. Likewise she knew that life was cyclical and patterns didn't remain constant forever. Still she worried for their strength and she was more determined than ever to ensure the survival of their calves as the season changed.

The sound of someone nearby temporarily distracted her from her path. Twisting her head, she listened for disturbances nearby - pinpointing it to her left, hidden between a mess of thick tree trunks and vegetation. Kiela carefully navigated through them, swiveling around around and slowly searching for the scent. It seemed she wasn't the only one trying to see who was near though. Kiela let out a huff, breath escaping in a puff of faint mist as the dark figure appeared in her vision. "Ah- good afternoon," she greeted him gruffly. Her heavy accent had never fully left, and given how little she spoke to others it was obvious this tongue was not her native one.

Change. Change was good, or at least, it was meant to be. Víðarr had known almost nothing other than change in the time that had passed between last midsummer and now. The constant shifting and changing and travelling... it was nice, but their people weren't nomadic. Any time they went somewhere, they were meant to be able to come back. They didn't have anywhere to go home to. Not anymore... not the fugitives. They'd snuck off, and they couldn't return. Víðarr was growing tired. They'd whispered about staying here, remaining here... it was sounding better and better. Still, he'd have to know how the entire family knew about it before making a decision for real. Footsteps. They weren't far off, actually, and they were coming closer. Víðarr paused, breaking focus from his track on the reindeer. That was fine, there was plenty of food out here... but who else was out here? He heard the huff, and his gaze tracked in the direction of the sound. Good afternoon, the words came, but the accent... the accent. Though it maybe should have made the shadow's blood run cold (if they'd been tracked, they'd be in massive trouble), instead it was a balm to his senses. Though not the same, or even as similar as his brain was encouraging him to believe, it was familiar. His gaze settled on the woman, trying to mask the surprise that had broken through. "Good afternoon," the words were breathless as he returned them. Víðarr was staring, maybe uncomfortably so. It took him a moment to break through to himself. "I'm sorry-- your accent I..." he didn't really have a good explanation, only that it was more familiar than anything he'd heard since leaving home. VÍÐARR Ragnarök awaits.

Almost immediately her interest was piqued - at least more than usual. His accent was not quite the same as her own but reminded her of the northern tongues, and she tilted her head in interest she didn't bother to conceal. Something almost like amusement touched her orange gaze as she watched him try to find his words, watching as he too stared and fumbled. Kiela let out a low laugh, a rarity for the stoic Jarvela, before finding her own tongue. "You are a northern wolf too," she noted plainly, a statement rather than a question. The way she gestured absently north, her internal compass always acutely attuned to where she was headed and where she'd come from, made it clear she didn't mean these lands, but somewhere further away.

"Kiela Jarvela," she offered quickly, not bothering with the niceties of small talk that generally preceded an introduction. There was a small chance he'd heard of her family, however impossibly minuscule it might be, and she figured it best to see if he did before she continued on. "You are new to these lands? I could say the same, but it has been years - though I still feel a stranger here." Kiela had been a yearling when she'd first come to Boreas and she wished she was surprised at how many years had passed, but instead she was acutely aware of each season that came and went.

The laugh that broke through the girl brought a smile to Víðarr's usually stoic features. It reached clear to his eyes, catching and hanging there. He was able to relax, genuinely. "I am," they're both northern, though not kin, it's the closest that the shadow will likely get outside his own bloodline. It's the closest, and he's okay with that. They were meant to be on the run, in hiding, and yet... and yet he relaxes, around the tall girl who stands before him. It's that laugh, which acts as a balm to his frayed nerves and ragged thoughts. Comfort. Kiela Jarvela, her name comes, and he'll commit it to memory with more care than all the others. Jarvela, a name that he hadn't heard before, but it sounds... hell, it sounds close enough to be like home. "Víðarr Trygg." He echoes the introduction, appreciating how to the point she is. It seemed that there were too many wolves here who spoke only to hear themselves. No, she's direct. She understands. The shadow's tail wagged. "We came at the start of summer, my sisters and I," sisters was an easier way to lump them together, he figured. Iðunn was close enough at this point, she may as well be. "Did you come with family?" For the first time since arriving, Víðarr felt at ease talking with someone outside of his own flesh and blood. He didn't want to overwhelm her, but Víðarr wanted to keep her interest, her attention, her company. Any of it. VÍÐARR Ragnarök awaits.

Kiela hummed a low murmur of acknowledgment as he spoke another confirmation. "Víðarr Trygg," she repeated, certain that she wouldn't forget his name. It sounded closer to home than she'd been in a long while and she too was comforted by the vaguest hint of familiarity. "And you intend to remain here, you and your sisters? Or are you only passing through?" Her gaze had fallen, shifting to the tracks in the dirt and the sparse hints of vegetation that had begun to sprout up all around following the departure of the long night.

"No," she answered after a short pause. "I came alone. Though apparently I have some family who traveled to these lands, years ago. It helped me..." Kiela fumbled for a moment, somewhat unpracticed in this tongue despite how long she'd lived here. "..make the.. decision to come here. My family spoke of the beauty of the world beyond our home - and they were right." Even if they'd made it up; Kiela wasn't sure. It was rare Jarvela struck out on an adventure to ever return home. She certainly hadn't heard of it happening in her childhood. Either way, they'd been right - there was enough here for her to see to entertain her for ten lifetimes, if not more.

The shadow let go of a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding, upon hearing his name from her lips. It was hard to not fall into it. Music to his ears, the sun shining on his shoulders, it was all the same warm comfort. "We intend to stay," the words were quiet, and he followed the track of her gaze. "Even wanderers need somewhere to return to." The words were thoughtful. They'd been wandering for so long... Viðarr was tired.

He was patient as she groped for the right words, a feeling that he understood all too well. The common tongue here tasted funny, and he wasn't fond of it. Viðarr tipped his head to the side as he listened to her speak, taking in not just the words, but the way they flowed as she spoke. "What is the most beautiful place here?" Though the words weren't quite as artful as he wanted, it was good enough. Not generally one for vanity, Viðarr found himself curious. He'd fallen in love with these woods already, and to leave them would be discomforting.

"Do you have plans tonight, Kiela?" Ah hell, he'd just ask. Maybe he could sway her into hunting for seals, or showing him that most beautiful place. All Viðarr knew was that he didn't want to step away from her side. Not yet, at least.

"Viðarr"

His words earned another small smile. Many of the wolves she'd met here not true wanderers; most of them had somewhere they returned to at the end of their journeys, or if not somewhere, someone. Kiela had neither of those things and she was perfectly content that way, but she did recognize the feeling of having a place she'd return to time and time again. This large stretch of forest was one she was beginning to feel that way about - this and the forests to the north and east. "The most beautiful place? Hmm," Kiela hummed thoughtfully, considering the question. "To the far north, near the sea, is a tall... castle, made of ice," she fumbled over the word for a moment before regaining her composure. "It is one of the most beautiful things I've seen." She had no doubt it was a sacred place, she'd felt its power when she'd first visited, and she had every intention of returning there someday.

But tonight was unfortunately not that night. The journey was too long to make after she'd already spent the day traveling. Perhaps by tomorrow's sunset she could reach the castle if she decided to, though she hadn't thought that far ahead, or even to tonight, if she was being honest. "No plans," she admitted with a shrug. "What about you?" Sometimes her plans extended into the next day but rarely beyond that, and never much further.

Víðarr had his someones to return to. His family-- it was family above all. They were adventurers, and having somewhere to lay his head at the end of the night was appealing. Not being alone was a comfort that he'd been able to rely on. They were a strange bunch, held together by far more than just blood. The gang... the gang and their childhood traumas. Shared trauma is something capable of bringing a group together, right? Víðarr didn't recognize the trauma, and maybe he never would. Maybe that was for the best. As Kiela spoke of the most beautiful place here, his eyes glimmered softly. There was a spark here, a curiosity. Víðarr was intrigued. "Would you take me?" It didn't have to be today, but there was a hope that he could see it. Hell, there was a hope that she would take him, and they could see it together. Maybe it was a bid to get her to spend more time with him. Would he hold on too tightly to the thing here that had brought the small comfort of something like home? That was yet to be seen. Also... well, he couldn't help but admit to himself, she was awfully pretty. Her company was comfortable. No plans, that was a good start... maybe. Víðarr's gaze returned to the woman where she stood, curious. "Would you like to come hunting with me?" It was an invitation. "We can eat together," right, the words felt strange in his mouth. There was no way that he could rearrange his tone to what exactly he meant, but that was fine. Víðarr wanted to bask in her company more, and didn't want to let a moment like this slip through his fingers. Softly, his gaze settled on the woman where she stood. It's softer than usual, from the shadow, but he figured it suits. VÍÐARR Ragnarök awaits.

"Perhaps, if we meet again," Kiela agreed with a faint smile. She couldn't make any promises there; even if she hoped to see him again (and admittedly he was shaping up to be decent company) she couldn't promise she would.  "It is a siedi, I think, a sacred place. My parents taught me about such places. I am lucky to have found one." It would be a place she'd return to again someday. Places like that were ideal for diving deep into contemplative thought - not that she needed much help with that anyway, given her solitary life.

But enough of sacred places and ice castles. A hunt did sound good. "I smelled some sheep earlier, not far from here. How does that suit you?" Kiela wasn't used to company beyond the most brief of interactions but she wasn't going to say no. She needed sustenance, after all. His presence and his undeniable good looks were just the cherry on top, though not something she paid much mind to, not beyond the briefest of thoughts as her orange gaze swept over him.

If we meet again, and he has to smile. "Then I will hope," the words come with a sort of confidence that he carries well. The tone speaks of admission, something that he may not normally say aloud. To Kiela, though? Well, that was information that she could have. Maybe the shadow was laying things on a little thick with her, but what was the harm? It's unlike Víðarr to be subtle. A Seidi, she called it. The magic places. A smile plays on his lips, a word he recognized, though not one of his people specifically. "I have heard... Sejte in my mother tongue," though their religions differed, there was a closeness that he couldn't deny or push away. When she didn't turn his offer down, Víðarr's eyes glimmered. There was a bit of excitement here. Okay, more than a bit. She was willing to hunt with him, to eat with him. He didn't have to say goodbye to Kiela, not yet. His smile was genuine. Víðarr was brassy, confident, steady where he stood. "That sounds excellent." The shadow shifts on his feet, stretching deeply. First his forelegs, then the hind, before returning to neutral. "Lead the way?" It's a question, an invitation. She'd scented them, and with her Víðarr would happily go. VÍÐARR Ragnarök awaits.

Before she had a chance to think about what she was saying, she spoke, quietly but firmly. "As will I." She enjoyed his company more than she had the company of most wolves she'd met, and she had no problem admitting that, and admitting she hoped they'd meet again someday. The feeling only seemed to grow steadily with each moment that passed. He even repeated the name siedi in his own tongue and she allowed herself another small smile.

Before they parted ways though they agreed to a hunt. Sheep sounded like a fine meal and something the two of them could easily take down together. "Good," she started, before leading the way as he suggested. Her nose fell low to the ground as she set off, heading back the way she'd originally came. Finding their scent wasn't hard, but it was difficult to tell how far they'd traveled since she'd scented them last. "You said you have sisters," she started, by way of casual conversation, something not generally easy for her - but this man made it seem a bit more natural. "How many?"

As will I, the words brought a bit of a warmth to play around Viðarr's shoulders, and in his chest. It was good to know that the feeling was mutual, after all. Ah, the shadow had a habit of either coming on too strong or not strong enough... and here he is, basking in Kiela's company. Hell, he hadn't managed to put his paw in his mouth yet. Things were a bit better than usual, in that regard. Viðarr could relax here, with her, and not feel the need to say so much. Not feel the need to put on so much, or be something that he wasn't as comfortable being. Though his guard wasn't down, he was far more relaxed than usual. The scent of the sheep is apparent as they close in on it, and Viðarr too picks the trail up. His steps come easily, confident and plain over the ground. No, the shadow is a hulking creature, and he lacks the grace of his smaller siblings. Still, he doesn't mind. He doesn't mind that he's maybe a bit heavier on his feet. Not all of them need to be dancers, after all. That, and the woman by his side today is capable, broad, strong like he is. Another comfort... another reminder of familiar things, of home. He's grateful for that. He's grateful for her. At the question of his sisters, the shadow breaks into a smile. "Three. Sanngriðr and Iðunn are older, and Róta is my litter." Auðr had arrived with them as well, but they had split off from the group so long ago now. The shadow worried for their safety, but it was best not to blow the cover of someone who was out and on their own. At least those that had remained close would have each other for protection, at least more immediately. It's not that Viðarr distrusts Kiela, no. It's that he distrusts how many other ears there are in these woods. Ears to hear, and to learn more than they need to know. "Do you have siblings?" It's a warm question... for once, in conversation he doesn't feel forced. Viðarr paused for a moment, checking the trail once more. It seemed that they were getting closer, reasonably fresh droppings from the sheep appearing on their path. "Ah, around this bend, maybe?" He looked to the woman, head canting to the side just a bit as he peered forward. Dinner sounds wonderful. VÍÐARR Ragnarök awaits.

Life was a strange thing, how it brought others into your orbit at the precise time - Kiela didn't believe in anything happening by pure chance though. The world was cyclical and worked in ways she couldn't begin to comprehend, she was merely a passenger in it. That wasn't to say she didn't believe she could shape her own destiny, but there were many things she felt she could not change too. Meeting Víðarr just might be one of those things that was bound to happen, no matter where she might have ended up or when.

He speaks the names of her siblings and she marvels at how similar it sounds to her native tongue. It's like music to hear ears. "No, no siblings. But many cousins - though I was close to only a few." Kiela has been relatively reclusive since childhood, and after embarking on her journey to Boreas she appreciated that she'd kept to herself even in her youth. It made leaving home less painful than it might be otherwise.

Soon they were close up on the group. By scent alone it seemed the group was small but it would be hard to tell for sure until they initiated a chase, especially given the thick trees that surrounded them. Kiela slowed, letting out a huff of air as she tried to get her bearings. "Let's move quick. The wind is not in our favor - they might know we're here soon," she speculated. "I'll go ahead of you and circle the group. You pick the target and lead it my way." Intercepting a group of prey to pick one off was a complicated art, but she didn't doubt Víðarr was plenty capable. She gave him a nod before setting off, hoping her new friend could drive the sheep her way and she could cut off its path and ensure a meal for them both.