As some sort of chaos began to break out quickly after the bonfire was lit, Wynter quickly removed herself from the bulk of the crowd. She didn't know what exactly was going on or who had a problem with who, but it was a big party and she didn't see a reason to get herself tangled in the mess. She certainly didn't want her protective father to take away her traveling privileges before they even began because she ended up in a fight that wasn't hers on her first real outing. With a huff as she walked away from the crowd that had gathered around the scuffle, she wandered off around to the other side of the massive bonfire where she had seen a large spread of food and treats laid out for the guests. No reason all of this had to go to waste...

As she walked around the fire, however, she spotted another younger wolf that looked maybe a bit younger than her that also seemed to be keeping to himself. Well, it was good to see that not everyone was caught up in the drama. She had been a little afraid that her chances to mix and mingle had been washed away as soon as the threats started going out. She walked over to the boy that looked like he was coated in dark gray with lighter slate stripes across his back from what she could tell in the firelight. "What a mess, huh?" she commented with a chuckle and a nod toward the crowd. Even though she guessed he wasn't quite a yearling yet, he was probably pretty close since he was already taller than her–not that she was incredibly tall to begin with. "I'm Wynter. I was about to go see what kind of food they prepared for this party if you want to join me."

"Wynter Fatalis"

Hallvarðr hadn’t known what to expect from the Hallows’ bonfire event when the girl from the southern pack had invited them, but his older half-brother had been dead keen to bring them all down as a good showing from Hemlock. So here he was, a viking boy very out of place at this party, trying to blend in and look like he sort of belonged even if he was a mountain heathen from the north. His brother and sister had gone off on their own to find their own trouble, so Hal was left to watch the ensuing posturing from the adults he didn’t know. Oh good, it looked like a fight was about to break out! Watching from across the bonfire with eager blue eyes and a toothy grin, Hal hoped that someone might die here. It wasn’t a successful party unless some blood was offered to Odin!

While he sat from the sidelines, watching and daydreaming about the day he might get to partake in such brawls, the tall and lanky almost-yearling was pulled from his excited spectating by a voice at his side. Glancing down, Hal took in the young girl who had come up to him. She was just slightly shorter than him by a few inches, looking well into her adolescence. She was a lithe and pretty thing, with dark charcoal fur and deep sapphire blue eyes. Hallvarðr was still a touch too young to feel the call of his viking blood when he looked at her, but he couldn’t deny that she was nice to look at.

The girl’s words confused him though. A mess? Nobody had bled yet and everything was still so clean. "Not yet. I’m waiting for someone to throw the first punch," Hal remarked with a wide grin. Such a boy response. The girl introduced herself as Wynter and Hal found himself quite taken with her name. He liked winter as a season, so maybe he’d like this girl too. "Hallvarðr. Hal is good too." He knew most wolves off the mountain couldn’t even attempt to pronounce his name. He didn’t expect her to be any different. She invited him to get some food with her and now Hal was interested in more than just the fight. "Sure." Maybe they’d have some mead he could pilfer too! Hey, it wasn’t like the Vikings had kept alcohol away from their children.

Wynter raised a brow at the boy's response that it wasn't a mess yet since no one had thrown a punch yet and all she could really do was grin and shake her head in response. She could see plenty of the boys–and maybe even some of the girls–in her family giving the same kind of response though so she wasn't all that surprised. He introduced himself with an extremely interesting name that made her tip her head slightly with intrigue. "Hallvarðr..." she repeated back to him slowly and carefully, memorizing the feel of it. It was such a different kind of name than she was used to, but she did like it quite a bit. "It's nice to meet you, Hal," she added with a chuckle. As much as she liked his full name the nickname was admittedly much easier to say.

He agreed to join her to see what the food assortment had to offer so she led the way to go do just that. The spread was pretty impressive, though certainly not so grandiose that she wouldn't know where to begin. A good portion of the display was filled with bottles of what she assumed were wines since she knew The Hallows was famous for that sort of thing. Next to those were pitchers of what looked like juices and water so there was plenty to drink outside of the alcohol. The rest of the long table was laden with roast meats and fish, a smaller section of pastries and sweets, and then a station that looked like sliced raw meats that could be either eaten as is or put on the end of a long, sharp stick that was displayed in a barrel beside the table to roast over the campfire. "Whoever put all this together really knows what they're doing," she commented while looking up and down the table while she tried to decide what she wanted to try first.

"Wynter Fatalis"

Wynter seemed perplexed by his name and Hallvarðr remained unfazed by her response. He was used to wolves who weren't his kin being astonished by the name his father had given him. He didn't care; he took great pride in his name, so as long as no one mocked it, then no one would be bleeding. He understood it was difficult for non-Tryggs to say though, which is why he gave her the option of Hal. She opted for that after ever so carefully pronouncing his name the first time. He was glad. Hal didn't think he could handle listening to her stumble over his full name every time she tried to speak to him. She exchanged pleasantries and Hal simply nodded his head with a soft grunt of acknowledgment. "It is nice to meet you too, Wynter." At least he believed it was nice meeting her. Time would tell, but he didn't suspect the girl would be any reason to not be happy to make her acquaintance.

As the yearling and almost-yearling made their way over to the food, the delicious smells of cooked meats and vegetables wafted over the smell of woodsmoke and ash. Hallvarðr eyes the table with a ravenous hunger, practically salivating as he eyed up the spread. Hey, he was a big growing boy, and big growing boys needed a lot of food! Fortunately, there seemed to be plenty here. The tables were smothered with assortments of cooked and raw meats and fishes, roasted vegetables, fresh fruits and desserts, and beverages galore! "Good. I'm starving!" As if on cue, the almost fully grown dire boy's stomach gave a loud, angry rumble. It was definitely dinner time.

Hal didn't see any mead (the blasphemy!) so with a bit of a disgruntled grumble, he reached for one of the open wine bottles, pilfering the whole bottle like a total heathen. Then he began gathering up a sizable stack of roasted and raw cuts of venison and pork to devour wherever Wynter decided she wanted to settle in to eat. Bringing the bottle of wine to his mouth, Hal took a long drink of the bittersweet red wine and immediately decided he still liked mead best. This would do for tonight though.

While she was still looking across the display of food and trying to decide where to start, Hall went right to work not only gathering a fairly large stack of various meats along with a bottle of wine. She blinked with surprise at the choice of drink. Wine wasn't as plentiful back home as it seemed to be here, but she knew about The Hallows famed wine and had been told that she shouldn't have any until she was older. She could be mistaken, but she was pretty sure Hall was younger than her by at least a bit so the fact that he took the bottle of wine without hesitation and immediately began to drink from it was very surprising. She gathered up a few bits of the roasted meats along with a couple of pastries and fruits on a small plate as well as a glass of cider before turning to go find a spot to sit and eat.

There were some furs and skins laid out in various sitting arrangements near the fire that were clearly intended for the guests to lay on while they ate so she found an available one and settled down with her food. She waited for Hall to join her before she began to take little samples of everything, savoring just how delicious it all was. If she did end up being able to stay in The Hallows to train for a bit, she would definitely have to see who made all of this and learn a thing or two about cooking while she was at it! She looked over at Hall curiously, noticing how he was still drinking the wine plentifully–and noticing how other wolves sitting near by had glasses of wine and not whole bottles to themselves–although there was a couple adults doing that too. "So do you have wine a lot at home too? It's a little harder to come by where I live," she asked casually, not wanting to come off like she was criticizing him or anything of that sort. She assumed his rules back home were probably different than hers and maybe he was allowed to drink wines and the like, but it did make her curious about why he was allowed and she wasn't.

"Wynter Fatalis"

If Hallvarðr had noticed the surprised look the Fatalis girl gave him when he snatched up the wine, he didn't give any sort of reaction. He simply waited until she'd collected her own food and drink and then followed her to where she chose to sit and eat. Hal laid down on a fur beside her near the fire and began to swiftly tear through the hunks of meat he'd gathered, fangs ripping through the meat like a ravenous beast. Everything was delicious, from the cooked and seasoned meats to the fresh and bloody ones. The Hallows certainly knew how to prepare a feast!

Devouring the food like the growing, starving dire boy he was, Hal didn't make much conversation at first until Wynter spoke up, asking if his pack had a lot of wine back home. Pulling his lips from the bottle he'd half drained, the heathen brute gave a lick of his lips and shook his head. "Nah. We make mead mostly. It's much better than this stuff, but it's good enough to drink," he remarked, taking another draught from the bottle as if to make his point. The bittersweet liquid washed over his tongue, the soft burn of alcohol running down his throat making him feel alive. Still wished it was mead though.

"So where's home for you, Wynter?" he asked, his accent getting heavier the more alcohol he consumed, the Nordic tone tinting his words rather than slurring them. Hallvarðr wasn't much for small talk and conversations, but he managed when it was needed, or when a pretty girl was involved. He assumed home must've been far away from here if the wines were hard to come by and the Hallows seemed to have plenty to go around.

"Hallvarðr Trygg"