Mist rolled in between the trees, soft and quiet as the morning sun barely eased its way into the sky. Úlfr strode boldly into the territory, adorned in new armor as well as new scares. His time within his mothers' homelands had proved educational, to say the least, but now it was time for him to return to the land he'd been raised in. Úlfr didn't have much inn the way of direction but he was sure the gods would guide him where they would. A necklace, bearing a mark of thor's hammer swung from his neck, while his ravens flew ahead.

He sifted through the scents of the woods, catching the scent of deer and he debated hunting one. If he could find one that was injured it might be suitable prey for a lone wolf. His ravens, though brilliant at distraction, weren't as keen at taking down large prey. They much preferred to wait for nature to take the life then feed off the remaining corpse.

There is comfort in this forest. There is comfort in the mist where it settles among the trees, a shroud that the shadow can slip through easily. Effortlessly. Comfortably. For as much time as he's spent here, Viðarr knows it like one would know a home. Soon, he thinks to himself. Soon it would be, again. Time was coming soon, and the wait was nearly over. All the plans to set in motion, all the change they'd bring about. Soon. A faint smile on the shadow's lips as he moves across the soft ground. Somewhere high above his head, the beating of wings. Beneath him, the shadows of the ravens played across the forest floor. Every step, every action is the tug of fate, the will of the gods.

Speaking of the gods' will. A figure was coming together through the fog. A figure that Viðarr recognizes as he nears. "You look well." He offers the observation where one would maybe typically offer a greeting instead. Still, there's warmth that shines through in his tone. The words come with the brilliance that the shadow can only properly display in his mother tongue. A few more long steps, and he's within a reasonable distance of the other man. "How did the winter treat you?" A friendly enough question, Viðarr supposes. Reasonable. It seemed something about the other man had changed, though he couldn't say with certainty what yet.

"Viðarr"

Úlfr continued on his way listening to the wind as it moved through the canopy above. A low caw from Galinn alerted him to the approach of another wolf. To his surprise it was Vidarr, just the man he wanted to see. Perhaps the gods were guiding him this day. He had only been in Boreas a short while and it was most fortuitous. He wondered if Vidarr had succeeded in creating his band. Úlfr dipped his head in greeting. "I'm feeling quite well. The winter was long and harsh but it carried many lessons with it. I journeyed back to my mother, Valdís', homeland. I learned much there." In many ways he could say he'd found himself there. Found a history and identity he'd only heard in stories but now had experienced. "What of you? Did you succeed in starting your band and have you room for another follower?"

Viðarr regards the man with warmth, friendliness. Though he's typically the reserved sort, there's undeniable comfort in being around those that understand. Though Úlfr had been raised here in Boreas, there was still northern blood in his veins. There was still a certain wildness that lived in his chest, one that Viðarr recognized. It's similar to his own. To hear that he'd gone home over the winter, it's enough to bring a smile to his face. It was bold to travel north in the winter, one that he respected. "You have to tell me all about it," it's genuine, Viðarr would like to know. Though he would deny it if anyone asked, here were days when he was homesick. During winter especially, it called to him, too.

And there's the question of the band. Viðarr offers a smile, though the situation had been less than ideal the first time around. "I made some decisions for the good of my family that put things on hold for a while." Úlfr's interest in joining him, that's enough to grow the smile on the shadow's rugged features. He was trying to put things in a way that would inspire confidence in his abilities as a leader. "There's plenty of room, now that things are in motion again. Would you like to come along with us?" A question, an offer. Viðarr would be glad for his company.

"Viðarr"

"You have to tell me all about it,"

Úlfr grinned, his tail waving lightly. "I would be happy to. Though such tales are best told by a fire over some ale." He'd joined in several raids during his time in his mother's homeland and had many tales of battle to share as well as some of extraordinary hunting experience. He'd learned a little of farming as well as curing meat and hides in new and unique ways but that was more something to share in a lesson than over drink.

Viðarr explained that he had to put his plans on hold for the good of his family. Úlfr could relate, having had to do the same when his mothers began to age. He'd have liked to have returned to their homelands with them in tow but it was not in fate's plans.

"There's plenty of room, now that things are in motion again. Would you like to come along with us?

"Yes, it would bring me great pleasure to join you and your followers. I can offer you my skills as a fighter as well as a hunter." Having reconnected with much of his heritage he was eager to be part of a group familiar with the beliefs and customs he'd taken to his heart.