It was time. The season had turned, and she'd bided her time until she'd judged it was right. Now was the time to call the pack together, for the fall þing and then - the vetrnátta blót. It was the time known as Winter-night, and the morning had dawned clear and cold, a crisp feeling like a fresh cold apple. It was a good day to set out on the hunt, to feel your blood run hot beneath your skin as the cold caressed you and ice crystals formed a rime on your pelt and muzzle. She had started some few days ago, hunting and storing what game she could take alone: hares, ptarmigan, grouse, geese, fish, even a fat beaver who ventured out to fix his dam before his pond would freeze over completely. Today with help she had taken a first-year doe elk, a leggy youth not even a year old - strangled it until it was insensible, then drugging it to keep it quiet and motionless at the meeting-place with vines twisted in a hopeless snarl around its legs and neck to prevent it from moving even in its quiescence state. With the cold snap there was little worry about the kills spoiling where she'd cached them in a cold cave in the gorge. If anything they were frozen stiff when she'd retrieved them and carried them in many trips down to their southernmost land to start to thaw somewhat. They were cached nearby with various beverages ranging from mead to wine and ciser to a new, fizzy drink that was only faintly alcoholic and tasted of ginger, awaiting the feast that would follow the blót. But first... Satisfied that the elk would be docile for many hours if it came down to that, she leaped with a fair amount of grace for her age to her rocky perch and lifted her head to call together the pack for the Winter-night þing. All would be required to attend, from her two faithful Stallari down to the youths of the pack, and the thrall to serve them. "" ""

OOC: everyone is required to attend or face IC punishment or removal from the pack. Posts are due April 22nd. People playing young wolves who don't already have a student rank should be prepared with a career choice so they can be assigned a mentor or anyone over the age of one will be moved to the karl rank.

She was thin and ageing far beyond her years in this pack. It had been so long since she had felt anything, and even longer since she had felt anything positive. The femme was not built for life in the north. Her body was small and lithe, with thin fur and small paws that were useless against the cold, snowy north. She couldn't keep up with these wolves and she knew she was going to die because of it. She had spend her last several days wondering what her life had amounted to and decided that it was nothing. She had, in her most productive period, gave birth to a son who didn't even recognize her as his mother. Alas, a meeting was called and Hani responded. Her light frame coming to the meeting spot and sitting in front of the alpha. Her eyes made contact with the other woman for a moment, then broke to look off into the distance. She wasn't even sure why she responded any more.

At the sound of her mother's call, the smallest and youngest of the Finnvi pups blinked and smiled. Oh, it was Winter-night! This would be her first þing, and her first blót as well. And oh, how she looked forward to this time when the gods were the closest to them. She had heard a hundred times the story of how she and her siblings had been conceived at a spring blót, with Odin descending into Laufey, taking a mortal form for a time to father children on Midgard. Who knew what mystical and lovely things could happen? She floated dreamily into the meeting, drifting like a dark downy feather caught in a breeze. "Halló, móðir," she spoke breathily, distracted for a moment as a blue-feathered butterfly drifted past her vision trailing sunbeams. She smiled distantly at the sight, the split in her lip parting to reveal the twisted gums and teeth there. Oh how lovely. It did not occur to her to glance at the thrall to share her wonder, the thrall whom she did not realize could not have seen the Other World that Runa so easily peered into, nor did she know that her mother's impassive mien could not behold it either. Oh, she was old enough to understand now that sometimes she saw things that no one else did - she just didn't yet know how to distinguish between what she saw and what everyone else saw.

He laid in his den, his breath wheezing painfully. He had been feeling worse and worse as of late, but had not called a healer to his side. He just thought it was a cold, but now it was getting harder and harder to breath. At the sound of the call for a meeting, Cath was hardly able to drag himself to his paws. Grunting at the pain, he took slow steps towards the meeting place. He had been feeling like this since he returned to his trek from the East, and he had news to tell Katja. He knew he should have called her sooner, but this lingering cough had not helped the matter. He didn't want to pass it to anyone else, so he had waited it out. It had been almost two weeks, and he hoped that he wouldn't get any of the young ones sick at the þing. Cathaoir still had been pretty quiet within the pack, for which he felt ashamed for. His last trip to the East had only been for two days, and he had made sure that he didn't leave often. But now, after he felt better, he knew that he had to involve himself more. Finally making it, he sat apart from the rest of the wolves, turning his head as a deep chested cough interrupted the silence. He made sure to stay away from everyone else, and dipped his head to Katja. When she let them all speak, he would tell her of his news. Until then, he remained silent save for the wheezing of his breath. "Talk" "You" Think

The boy was becoming a man. His bulky form moved through the familiar lands with ease. Though his body was powerful, he felt... off. He felt like the lands were freezing and that the shadows were always on his tail. He hurried, heavy paws clumsily kicking roots and rocks out of the way. He made it to the meeting and practically flopped into a slouching sit. He was panting, his vision blurring slightly. He needed to drink more water. He needed to be strong. Sitting up, Stori tried to pull himself together. He couldn't let the pack know his body was feeling this way. He didn't want them to think he was weak. He didn't want to be weak.

Mist swirled around his feet as the morning fog lifted on a chill autumn morning. Lyndvarr had been outside the pack lands, wandering the north as he worked to accept the passing of his caretaker, Inga. Despite his efforts to be proud of her he could only feel the stillness of mourning wrapped around his heart. A void. The displaced space that she had once occupied seemed to follow him around and he knew it was rather unbecoming of him to sit in sorrow like this and he was determined to move on…. if he could just figure out how. A howl rang out in the air, distant and far but he immediately recognized it at Katja’s. The winter-night þing and the vernal blót. Was it time already? Quickly he raced back into Yfir territory, agile paws picking a way up to where Katja and several others waited. He dipped his head deeply in respect to his aunt before taking a seat by himself. Walk, "Talk" Think

Naudir was facing the wall of the den, bright blue eyes staring ahead, lids slightly hooded. The nightmares had been bad last night and she felt so tired and so nervous. It was as if she could fall asleep at any second if it weren’t for the fact that she felt like she was going to be awake forever. Their mother called for them and Naudir’s brow knit together. It was awful early for a meeting wasn’t it? How long had she been staring at the wall? She could feel Runa stirring next to her as her little sister left her side but still she didn’t turn-

“Ouch!” Naudir flipped over with a growl, eyes glaring at Balthazaar who had a few strands of her mottled coat in his beak. “Meanie! Why’d you do that?” Branwen hoped over to her, gerntly nuzzling her paw. “C’mon love, you can’t sulk in here forever you know. It is time for the winter-night for your first þing.” Naudir scrambled to her feet. That was today! Quickly she raced out of the den after her sister. Branwen flew out after her as Balthazaar ruffled up his feathers and squawked at the rest of the young. “Come on younglings! Up! Up! Time to go!”

Naudir scrambled over to the meeting, panting lightly as she moved to lay down next to her sister. Branwen flew gracefully in, the light of the morning sun catching her feathers as she landed near the girls.

"Speech"

There was a meeting today! She hadn't meant to be late, really. Her mother's call, firm but not something that made her wonder what did I do wrong this time?, was quite intriguing. Well, even if hadn't been tempted, she knew she had to go. It roused her from sleep easily, as she felt the bodies of her siblings shift around her, warm replaced by a sudden, uncomfortable coolness as the air from outside swept in around her. She ought to have followed them, but just one more moment of sleep sounded great. Her eyelids, feeling quite heavy, fluttered down over her eyes. A long few minutes passed.. okay, maybe it was more than a few minutes.. before she realized she was alone in their den. A brief touch of panic hit her as she scrambled to all fours, heading toward where her mother had called them. By the time she got there, the girl was panting lightly, her face slightly contorted in a look of tired bewilderment. Everyone was there already.. damnit. Her head dipped in an apologetic bow as she settled down near her siblings, eager to hear what their mother had in store for them all today.

Ah, was he ready for the yearly blót! It was a time for celebration, for passion and for joy; though this year he felt unusually somber. Perhaps he owed the gods a more quiet evening of reflection, rather than his usual frivolity. The elder Finnvi man took his time reply to Katja's call, letting his mind clear as he made his way quietly to the gathering. He swore he felt the presence of the gods tonight, which he expected on a Winter-night; but their presence hung startlingly heavy in the air, both invigorating him and soothing him. He nearly shuddered as he felt a brief wind rustle his coat, as Jǫrmungandr slithered tighter around his neck, her face buried in his thick coat. She hated the cold, and the wind - and yet she somehow persisted here.

The former aching in his limbs seemed to have faded by the time he reached the gathering. Likely one of the last ones here, though he couldn't help but let a wide grin overtake his features. "Kids!" he'd call out Katja's children, his tail waving in joy. "Are you excited for your first þing?" He was certain they would be, and warily Jǫrmungandr slid to peek from the fur of his neck at the wolves before them.

Frost clung to the man’s pelt as he climbed and slipped over the rocks with the fluid movements of a river over a rockbed. There was a bounce in his step, a grin on his face. He’d completed his mission and tracked down the scent of the traitorous Vereux. He had hoped to speak personally with the runaway but alas it was not to be. Ah well it was nice to meet the alphess at least and he had the answers for Katja.

Hárekr strode back into Yfir’s territory, amazed at the brashness of the other man in founding a new pack right on the vikings doorstep without so much as a hello. Where were manners these days? Climbing higher the harlequin paused as he heard the festival call of his Drottning. His toothy grin further parted his maw. Ahh… it was good to be home, good to be… with family. Heh, family. That wasn’t really the word he was looking for… probably… The smile faded for a moment as Hárekr came to a pause.

He switfly moved on and arrived at the gathering. Moving toward Katja he dipped his head in greeting. “My apologies for my tardiness Katja. I have found Vereux. It seems he’s living comfortably next door in a pack called Ivalice under the alphess Avalon. It seems he has no interest in returning to Yfir. I thought it best to bring you this news rather than ruffling our dear new neighbors.” He grinned before shifting to sit next to Lyndvarr.

Kassander was very late as he slunk into the meeting, tail and head low with embarrassment. He should have known it was time for one of Katja's meetings, but frankly he'd forgotten and gone south to gather herbs. The pack's stores were low for certain items with the respiratory ills that some of them were facing, but it was frustratingly difficult to find much of use in the south either with the constant rains overwatering and rotting many herbs. He'd found some, though, maybe enough to replenish the stock, and had even made it back up north before hearing Katja's howl. He'd stood, aghast, with his mouth full of herbs needing to be dried still or they'd be ruined, until Rommel had finally gently taken the herbs from him and chased him off towards the meeting with the admonition that the fox and Remy between them could manage just fine to dry out plants. It seemed he'd even managed to insert himself into the group before Katja began her meeting, barely, but he was clearly the last one to arrive by a long margin. Passing his bicolored gaze over the pack, he was chagrined to realize that they were much reduced in numbers and... a certain vibrancy, than at the last meeting. Had they dwindled so much in such a short time? Was it his fault? If he'd worked harder in his role as a healer, shouldn't he have been able to help keep the pack bonded together? This was like Ebony all over again, wasn't it? Val fighting to keep the pack from trickling away like water through a sieve, and him doing nothing to help. Troubled, he shifted his paws. Maybe he ought to find a way to support the pack, beyond just repairing their bodies.

Her pack began to trickle in, even the long absent Harekr back from his mission - apparently with the news he had been seeking. Katja closed silver eyes against a wave of fury, and though when she opened them again it was with a glow of anger her voice was cold and collected as she answered. "Thank you, Harekr. You've done well on your mission. I welcome your return to Yfir." She would deal with the betrayal later; for now she set the anger aside. They had all appeared, except for those who were ill, and Neith who had disappeared with Eisleif. She had not yet informed Laufey that his daughter was missing. He had enough to worry about with his illness, and with Taufr and Raesa ill as well. There was no more he could do that his pack could not do as well, until he recovered. With the arrival of all expected to come, she spoke - quietly but with the expectation that the pack would pipe down and listen. "Tonight is Winter-night, and with it the vetrnátta blót. I do not expect you all to choose to stay for the blót, though any are welcomed. Winter-night marks our autumn seasonal þing." Most had attended in the past and knew what to expect. Her children had not, but she had hopefully prepared them enough through stories and teachings for them to sit quietly and observe. First thing, as always, were the announcements of what the pack may need to know in the coming season. "The friðla Neith has vanished," she began bluntly, "and with her taken one of Yfir's children, Laufey's daughter Eisleif. I expect you all to be alert for any signs of either of them." The coolness of her tone made clear the consequences for having stolen away one of the pack's offspring, their future. "There is also disease in the south, far greater than what we have had to face here in the north, so I urge caution until it passes. There have been many deaths, and I do not wish this disease to be visited upon us through carelessness." A decisive nod, and a firm glance around those of the pack most prone to wandering, or whose very path required them to travel. "There have been some changes to our rank structure as well. Please take note of them." (OOC: assume she gave an explanation IC, but also do see the new ranks in the pack thread and re-familiarize yourself with the old ones as well.)

But not all was stern warnings and announcements. She straightened her back as she stared at her three present children. There was a moment of regret that Eisleif would not get to participate in this moment that she had been looking forward to as a child, that Raesa and Taufr were too ill to stand beside their littermates, but she could not hold Naudir, Asvor and Alfrun back to await their siblings any longer. "As is custom at all þings, I invite all who wish to gain in rank to step forth to state their intentions to do so, and challenges will be held at the close of the meeting. Any among the children who feel themselves ready to formally begin their training in a field of their choosing, ready to be assigned a mentor and to become as adults in the eyes of the pack, please step forward now and state your intentions." Her chilly eyes softened with clear pride as they swept over her offspring, but she quickly returned to her businesslike clip. "Any who seek redress for a grievance, or wish to make a statement to the pack may also do so now."

OOC: I expect at least one more post out of everyone, even if they don't have any particular thing to say or do. Everyone should stick around until Katja dismisses everyone because ICly, if there were a dispute brought up all wolves would need to be present. I'm going to skip the IC playing out of the blot itself though since this meeting dragged on so late (sorry) so there won't really be a next round after this unless you want to post an exit.

He was rather excited to share the news that he had signs of Vereux, feeling like he was finally putting more effort into his pack. But it would seem that he was too late, another male coming in with news that he had found the brute. His ears pinned back to his skull, and a heavy sigh left his chest. Oh well, he had only heard whispers of where he was, this guy had found the wolf himself. It was a lot better than his spotty words and vague direction. He tried to not feel to disheartened, after all Hárekr had actually put a place on his head. Cathaoir's ears flickered when Katja spoke of even more missing wolves, and he understood why she was so angry. This seemed to be a common things for wolves here, and the dame had been stupid enough to take a puppy with her. The young male growled, his weight shifting between his front paws. Yfir had been good to him and from what little interacting he had done, he knew these were fair, good wolves. Why would others keep on putting that all on the line? Yes, they had different ideals than he was used to. But he still wouldn't betray them. When Dróttin mentioned a sickness, he scrambled to his paws and took several steps back, his large form lowering slightly. He had been down in the east not too long ago, that is probably where he had contracted this. It wasn't advanced, just coughing, a runny nose and a touch of a fever. His breath wheezed a bit, and he glanced at the meeting with wide eyes. He needed to stay away from these wolves. He didn't want to spread it even further. Katja had not dismissed them yet though, so he stayed in his lowered position. Once again she asked for those who wished to rank up to step forward. He wanted to, but not in this condition. When the floor was opened up, he cleared his throat from the back. "That sickness. I think I have it. On some level," he said in a hoarse voice, standing to his full height. He looked concerned, not wishing to get anyone else ill. He looked to Katja with an apologetic look, as if getting sick was his fault. In some way, it was. He could have stayed up north, but he had gone to look for Starling. "I don't want to get others sick. Please stay away." he said in his broken speech pattern. It wasn't like he really interacted with other wolves, but just in case. He wished to leave, but didn't dare without the approval to do so first. "Talk" "You" Think

As the pack began to gather, an excitement began to build in the youth, shining out through bright eyes. Kapra's greeting to the three Yfir pups brought a quiet wiggle as she settled her gaze on him. "Oh yes, Uncle Kapra, very much so," she beamed at him with a smile that showed the gap in lip and teeth. "Our Father will be with us tonight won't he, Uncle?" she added thoughtfully, though the particular lilt as she asked the question made it clear she was not referring to Laufey, who she knew was too ill to attend, as were Taufr and Raesa. She spared a sad thought for her eldest two littermates, who would be missing their first blot because of the illness that kept them confined. She hadn't long though, before her mother had opened the þing with announcements. Runa's eyes widened with consternation at the news that one of the older pups had been stolen away by a concubine, then narrowed to thoughtful slits. She tilted her head to bring the sky above her into her field of vision, her gaze unfocusing and going hazy as she sought the gods to whom they were kin. Surely they were watching over Eisleif as well, for she was also of their kin. Would they keep her safe? Or was this a test for the young Finnvi? The gods, Runa knew, did not often see fit to intervene in Midgard, for if they interfered how would the Midgardians grow stronger? But she hoped that Eisleif would be all right. The disease was... less worrying to the girl, who did not yet see much point in looking beyond their borders. She was unconcerned by the news of southern deaths, though it did bring to mind the worry about Laufey and Raesa and Taufr... but no, Tau and Rae were both getting better, even if they weren't completely well yet. Finnvi wolves were far stronger than Ardent wolves, so surely they did not need concern themselves with this pandemic. She did come back to focus as her mother turned a stern silver gaze over the three pups. Blinking vaguely, Runa made certain she was sitting straight and neat as attention was drawn to them, a vagueness replaced with a warm glow. They were ready to begin formal training? It was indeed an auspicious night, then. The delicate young Finnvi rose smoothly to her paws and stepped forward a few quiet steps. "Móðir," she began with a seriousness in her high, soft voice that was entirely at odds with her physical age. "I have long felt the call of the gods leading me. If you find me worthy, I would wish nothing more than to become gyðja, and train to one day be goði."

Naudir settled with Balthazaar on her left and Branwen on her right as her mother began to speak explaining the winter-night, the blót. The girl tried to pay attention but her mind slowly wandered through daydreams as she watched the moonlight spill over the frost-bitten landscape. There were many among their number that were missing. Yfir was quiet and she couldn’t help but feel like it was falling in on itself. Naudir shuttered lightly at the mention of disease.

Her mothers news regarding the ranks sparked her interest. The girl had yet to really pick a direction. Everything seemed like a possibility and the prospect of being a trader in particular appealed to her. Kaupmaðr that would be the rank she would train for. It seemed now was her moment! Katja invited wolves to step forward but she would hesitate, suddenly nervous. Was she sure? Was she really sure? She watched Runa step forward, a soft smile on her face at her sisters choice. She would step forward next to Runa. “Móðir I wish to begin training for the rank of Kaupmaðr. The gods have not pulled me yet in any one strong direction but I feel in the pit of my stomach that this is the first step. From your mention of the rank I felt a stirring and I hope to find my way upon this path.”

"Speech"

“It is my honor, Katja.” Hárekr was pleased with himself for the success of his mission and it tickled the fire of ambition in his stomach, a fickle flame that blazed and smoldered and dwindled with the seasons. Hárekr never intended to be anything other than a Thegn. However, with the recent developments he wondered if Yfir could benefit from a new Stallari. He wasn’t sure that he’d proven himself enough yet in the arts of battle. He’d shown his cunning and persistence in hunting down Vereux but he had no significant battles yet to adorn him. No honors. He needed it, he craved it and he would make his desires known. When Katja opened the þing to the others Hárekr would step confidently forward. “Dróttin I hope you do not find this to bold of me but I wish to try for the rank of Stallari. With Laufey indisposed and a potential thread on our borders would it not be beneficial? I am tenacious, you know this and my recent successful mission is testimony to this yes? Test my skills in battle and if you find me insufficient I will continue to work on my skills. I understand we have more Stallari than Thegn but please consider it.” Hárekr felt he had a good chance but the only problem was when Laufey recovered, and no doubt he would, there would be more Stallari than Thegn’s…. and that might not sit well in the pack. It would create an imbalance. They needed to recruit. Yfir was slowly slipping through the cracks.

Lyndvarr’s mind was full of mist and fog and he allowed it to wander where it would despite his hopeless efforts to stay focused on the meeting. He owed Katja that much and yet… he just couldn’t focus. What was wrong with him? Was it grief? How long was this going to last? As Katja spoke Lyndvarr filed away her words. He’d go over them later. He didn’t really plan to be leaving Yfir’s borders any time soon… although his stores were running low. This mysterious sickness was starting to filter into Yfir and so far he’d been helpless to find a cure. Hopeless, helpless, he was getting disgusted with the feeling. “Cathaoir, can I see you after the meeting? I may be able to help ease your symptoms.” He had to try, there was work to do. Walk, "Talk" Think