The air is cold, cutting through her fur. Bylgja raises her head and breathes it in. She has travelled for some time, picking her way across the landscape of this strange place, but here-- where ragged stone rips from the ground like teeth, Bylgja feels keen and at home. Her head tilts back; there is a border, here. She can smell it.

The wolf steps forward. One step. Another. Her head stays tilted back; she lingers along the border, not wanting to cross. That, she knows, is a trespass.

Her jaws part.

Bylgja roars. It starts guttural, at least, like a roar -- and then it tilts up, fiercely to become something sharper and bolder. The call rips from her, eager.

"Hail!"

A shuddering breath and she continues on, clenching her abdomen to expel the howl with all the power she has. Oh, the Skálds would be proud of her. The tenor of her voice... the strength. "Hail! Wolves of this cold land! I am Bylgja Hausakljúfr! I would speak with you!" She waited, then, peering into the distance.

From a distance, one might believe they see a wolverine descending from the slopes of Fenrir's Maw. Surely, the appearance and size of the creature that clambered its way down had to be a wolverine. The near-black fur that coats its back with its golden patches along its sides and rump was that of a Wolverine. Something was off though. The head. Its head was slightly off-kilter. Beady black eyes not quite the right size and though upper teeth showed, there appeared to be no jaw. As the creature grows closer, hurrying its steps toward the booming and guttural cry of the stranger, one can see that it is not an actual wolverine, but a wolf clad in a wolverine's pelt.

With winter forcefully blowing through Fenrir's Maw, the imp of a girl had been colder as of late. Not that she would be one to complain, but Vidarr had noticed. The shadowy titan noticed everything it seemed. When he had gifted her the wolverine pelt, she had taken it with begrudging thanks. He told her it would be easy for her to stay safe. Like she cared. Yet, she wore it anyway. Truth be told, it did keep her warm and dry, safe from the elements of the drizzling snow that littered the landscape. Plus, she was only a tad smaller than an adult wolverine so the carefully crafted pelt ended up fitting snugly over her body and legs with the head perched proudly atop of hers.

Approaching the female that had let loose a call at their border, Delphi meets her gaze with her own heterochromatic one. Ablaze with youthful energy, the small girl tilts her chin up to get a better look as she stops feet away, just on the other side of the border. "Do you fight?" Is all she says with a rather peculiar expression - one that is trying to stay neutral but can barely hide the mischievous smirk that tickles the corners of her lips.

Víðarr is a watcher, a guardian, a sentinel. Always watching, but only opening his mouth when it seemed really important. The watcher had confronted Delphi, in his own way. Had asked the child what was wrong, because... well, clearly something was. Scrambling for her place in the world, fighting for it. Fighting to figure out exactly what it meant to be... to be. Víðarr knew it was difficult, and could only think of the things he'd done at her age. Nearly a year old... his age, when he'd fled from his homeland on a grand adventure. The meaning of the adventure had still been unknown to him, then.

It's primarily Delphi on his mind as he sets about his daily chores, though thoughts of Astraios and the rest of the soon-to-be yearlings linger too. They would need mentors. Asking children what they wanted to do with the rest of their lives at this tender age was far too loaded. Still, he could cultivate their interests. He could teach them to fight, to defend themselves, to defend the Maw and their fellow man. It keeps his mind busy, at least, until a call rings out.

Víðarr is prompt, making his way towards the border of his home and the source of the call. Not prompt enough, it seems, as Delphi has beaten him to it. His gaze lands upon the stranger, assessing the large woman with his curious, icy gaze. "I am Víðarr Trygg. The mountain is home to my pack, Heiðinn." The viking king looms over Delphi's shoulder for a moment before drawing to a more conversational distance, beckoning the child to follow. "What is it you wish to say?" He's curious. The woman before him is... well, she's one of them. That much he could tell at a glance. She doesn't have the posture of a challenger, she's respected the scent markers at the border. Was this another warrior for his ranks?

She does not flinch at the sight of the wolverine. Instead, she appears to ready herself; claws dig down, and the wolf hunches forward, tail twitching back and forth, a bit at a time. A wolverine will be a tough kill, but Bylgja feels confident that she can take the kill, even without her axe. She knows them well: tenacious, hungry things with sharp teeth and wicked claws and brutal intentions, but she has killed one before. The woman leans forward, her body hunching down...

... and when the strange wolverine is revealed to be a wolf in wolverine's skin, she laughs. It is a deep, hearty laugh, and Bylgja reclines back up, her tail wagging thrice and her ears swiveling forward. That face splits into a proud smile.

"Oh! You wear skin of wolverine? Cunning girl! Hah!" Her accent is thick. "I will take this trick too, I think! Serve me well." The question gets a head tilt from the brute, who appears stunned by it-- but not for a reason that one might expect. Bylgja looks down at her form. Her scars, the tattoos marked into her flesh, and then looks back up at the girl-- and the new arrival. This is a man. This man smells like the border.

Bylgja is pleased to see him, too. She doesn't hide it. What is there to hide? Only a coward would not show their true emotions. Again, her tail begins to wag.

"Yes, I fight!" She nods to the girl. "Almost fought you-- **wolverine child!**" But her gaze slips back to the man, to -- ah! A name. "Víðarr Trygg. My father shares your first name. Víðarr. Is a strong name." A quiet approval from a stranger who did not need to give it. She sighed, perhaps wistfully. "I see pack here, with... strong border, strong mountains, like many teeth to sky. I feel urge to speak with leader, and here is leader, yes? The Gods have truly guided me in this strange land. I, Bylgja Hausakljúfr, would stay, if Víðarr Trygg would allow me this. I will find an axe again, and I will use it with teeth and claw. I was fated here, to meet you, and the Wolverine Girl." It is a bit of a speech for her, but it seeps from her with syllabic emotion, each word practically painted with a hearty sense of truth and self. "I am healer, too. To patch my wounds and wounds of shield-wolf kin." A quiet little wag of the tail.



"**spoken in norse.**"

Delphi does not flinch when she watches the woman hunch as if preparing to attack. When she is revealed to not be a Wolverine, the woman relaxes and lets out a good belly laugh. She can't help but laugh back, unsure if it is a good thing yet. The woman speaks in the broken common tongue, much like Vidarr's family does. Vidarr is a lot better at it now than he was when they first met. Her tail wags excitedly as she holds her stance, eyes roving over the woman's scarred and painted body. "Cunning, I am, yes!" Delphi practically chirps in response finally as the scent of Vidarr washes over her. Unfortunately for Delphi, she had not been quick enough to meet the stranger.

Glancing up at the Konungr, Delphi gives him a wide shit-eating grin as he looms over her shoulder. She knew she shouldn't have answered the call because well, she was a tiny pup and the woman could have actually attacked her. But Delphi's sense of fearlessness had not yet dissipated. As she moves with Vidarr to a conversational distance, she lets out another laugh. Waiting patiently for the woman to finish her speech, she eyes Vidarr quickly to see if it is okay for her to speak a moment. "We should fight. I am Delphi, the Konungr's granddaughter," she smiles brightly up at Vidarr again before turning the wide smile to Bylgja. Was she trying to show off a little? Maybe. "You should also teach me more of your language!" The words are not quite demanding, but more playful as her own docked tail wags happily behind her.