Víðarr would be a fool to not recognize that she'd given up something for him. For as long as he'd known Kiela, she'd been free as the northern winds. Now she'd made the decision that she'd settle with the pack, though as a scout, and her heart roved with the herds. Víðarr is more than content with that. He's more than happy with that. In his eyes, she'd given a piece of herself to be among them. Gratitude didn't begin to describe the feeling. Though his fondness for her would remain unspoken, Víðarr couldn't help but wonder about the man who'd come with her to that first meeting. The man who, while a stranger to the viking king, was pulling his weight along with everyone else. He had no complaints, though perhaps... mmm. No, he wouldn't give heed to that thought. Kiela is not a possession. None of them were. Still, as a friend, he feels he's within rights to be protective. It's not that she can't take care of herself. Still. He hopes his talent for tracking her down hasn't failed him, plodding in the direction of her scent. Gaze keen, posture relaxed. The early afternoon sun shone down on Víðarr's dark pelt, though it did little to combat the bracing chill of winter. A beautiful day. A gift from the gods.

Her herd was doing well - as well as they could be doing, during this season - and so Kiela was happy. In the spring she would better assess their health, to see who had struggled to survive winter and might need to be culled. One in particular caught her eye, a rugged-looking female that had been with the group for as long as she'd known them, who'd seen better days. Her time would be up before long, and she thought she could soon coordinate a hunt with Heiðinn's hunters to humanely bring her down. Until then she would wait, ever-vigilant and always keeping an eye on them, often from a distance. Her eyes didn't need to be on them every day, nor every week; she knew them well enough to know where they traveled and roughly when, and tracking them down again would not be hard. The herd was not at the forefront of her mind though, not today. Instead she'd taken to sniffing around the edge of the crumbling ancient ruins Heiðinn had laid claim to. No doubt something the gods were responsible for - she swore she could feel them here, in every inch of dirt she trekked across, in every square inch of stone that her eyes slowly roved over. Víðarr's approach was a pleasant disruption from her thoughts, as always. She swore she knew the sound of his pawsteps, and when she turned to face him she was hardly surprised at the gaze that met her own. A small smile touched her lips, and she bowed her head briefly in greeting. "Víðarr," she greeted him as she always does, about as warm as a greeting from her tends to get. "The season is treating you well?" Not just small-talk, but she truly wanted to know. They hadn't had much time to catch up lately, and she was glad to change that.

The gods were responsible for... well, for many things about this place. Víðarr's gods. Kiela's gods. Someone's, and it didn't matter quite the specifics. There's something about that sameness, without being the same. Something about it that he loves more than he can explain. She's always meant comfort, for him. Ever since the beginning. As the herdswoman fades into view, a grateful smile crosses Víðarr's shadowy lips. There she is. As he can always trust her to be when he needs, there she is. His heart warmed. "Kiela," the warmth comes from his chest, from his smile. It's radiant, and he'd allow it to fill the space between them. As he'd done what felt like many times before, he reached out to offer his broad cheek to hers. A gentle greeting, something that is friendly. Friendly, not without tenderness. One of his best, oldest friends in this strange new world. It seems to him, they'd seen each other through more time than even most of his family. The viking king is grateful for her, for her loyalty. For her bravery. "It is, even better with you here." He's genuine. "How are you? How is the herd?" Though there was business to discuss, Víðarr would check in with her first. She was more important than any plan or scheme or favor he could ask of her. The viking king takes a step back to observe, really look at and see her. Though his tone takes on a bit of a harder edge when he asks his next question. "And your companion, too?" Víðarr knows Sverre's name, and little more about him. Kiela trusted him, she must to bring him in so close. Still, the viking king is more possessive over her than he cares to admit. Respectful, yes, but Kiela was important to him in ways that were rather different than usual. "Víðarr"

It was a strange thing, how life worked - Víðarr had come in and out of her orbit for so long that his presence was just something she expected now. Not that she took him for granted, she took nothing for granted at all, but he was comforting. His company filled her with a pleasant warmth, a feeling few wolves elicited from her, and she was always grateful for time spent with him. He too was one of the few who could easily earn a smile from her, the expression softening as he leaned forward to offer his cheek to her. She was quick to oblige, moving closer to brush the side of her muzzle against his face. It was a rare display of affection that sometimes she found herself yearning for more as she got older. Not that Kiela was particularly lonely, nor did she really yearn for more companionship than she had now. These simple moments felt like enough for her. "Good," she replied as she pulled away from him, genuinely glad to hear things had been going well for him. Her orange gaze scanned his face intensely as he spoke. "The herd is well enough. There's an older female that we need to cull in the spring, if you don't mind me leading the hunt." Surely he wouldn't have any objections, but Kiela wanted to be sure before mentally preparing. A hunt on her precious caribou would be a carefully-orchestrated thing, not something she was willing to let anyone take charge of. The elderly ungulate would be taken down carefully, respectfully, and nothing would be wasted from her kill. Not her meat, not her pelt, not even her teeth. She knew there were plenty of crafters in the pack who would be glad to take part in reclaiming her once she was gone. "He seems to be doing well too," she explained, giving a shrug. He tended to keep to himself as much as she did, and there wasn't much more to say about that. "And the rest of the pack is settling in here, too?" Though she was hardly a caretaker she couldn't help but be curious, even about the wolves here she didn't know well yet.

Warmth was precious. Though where they came from was wildly different, the pair had long recognized each other as kindred spirits. The viking king can feel the warmth that stands between them, and is grateful for the relationship they share. He's gentle as he regards the woman beside him, his muzzle brushing against hers. Tender, lingering. One of his oldest friends, and one of his very best. The viking king is grateful to have her near. Never would he ask her to change her nature, but for the time that she stays, he's grateful. "I am always grateful to have you lead hunts." He smiled softly, appreciative. The care with which she tended the herd was something he'd always admired, and would continue to. Now the pack would reap the rewards, and it wasn't without special recognition. Víðarr was grateful for that, too. Barely concealing his relief that Kiela's response came with a bit of indifference, rather than warmth, Víðarr was glad to shed the subject. Quieting the possessive parts of his head, the ones that shouldn't be quite so loud in these moments. Right, happier things. "They seem to be, though there are more of them than I expected." He chuckled softly. "When you have the time, could you check out the Crypt to the south? Your opinion matters to me." It's a light request, though he hoped she'd be receptive. Best to get everyone's thoughts as they looked at where they may expand to next. "Víðarr"

Kiela had very, very few wolves in her life like Víðarr. She felt as though he understood her, all the way down to her very core - he knew what made her her, he knew her dreams and aspirations on a base level. Though they were simple, and something she shared willingly, she felt that few wolves really understood. But he did, and she was grateful. It wasn't something she'd really expected from him the first time they'd met, and naturally as time went on she couldn't help but feel more and more connected with him. He seemed agreeable to her plan and she nodded, humming thoughtfully. In the spring she'd bring the pack together and hunt then, leading them with instructions she had no reason to believe they wouldn't follow. The wolves of Heiðinn were an independent bunch but they weren't stupid, and she doubted they'd step on her toes too much, not if they agreed to follow her lead on a hunt in the first place. That was a topic for later, though. Víðarr expressed his interest in the crypt to the south of their lands, somewhere Kiela hadn't herself gone yet. Subterranean lands weren't exactly her favorite but surely he had reason for her interest. "Of course," she agreed easily.  "I can bring a group along with me if you think it best. No telling how deep  that place lies beneath the mountain." With the way their pack was growing it seemed natural to expand beyond their current territories and Kiela seemed to have picked up on that fact. A thorough investigation of the crypt could prove dangerous too, so going with a group sounded reasonable to her. Might as well have another reason to get to know her packmates better, too.