OOC NOTE: This is set after the birthing thread in Valhalla, before Irune is 2 weeks old and playable.

So much had recently happened, and the swirling wind around her, buffeted her small frame as she trudged into Glaciem's territory towards her den. The pup she had given birth to swayed in her jaws, she moved silently, her body worn with exhaustion, the remains of the labor she had went through visible on her body. She hadn't even had time to clean herself. The den she so seeked, she found through thinning of trees, and moved her child inside it, burying her deep in the large nest of leaves she had, nuzzling her, checking on her before moving to the entrance of her den. She hadn't washed the scents from her fur, and she knew the moment she called the king she would have a lot of explaining to do. Dull golden eyes stared into the forest, contemplating the call that she was about to issue. She was just so tired. So exhausted. A deep sigh left her, as her muzzle raised into the air, kissing the pre-dawn light, calling Isardis to her. They had to talk and he had a daughter to meet. Speech...

He had been suspicious, distrusting of Eris after her sour words to Azalea; and as the tell-tale stench of hormones had accompanied the first breath of morning, Isardis was one step ahead as he had watched the russet woman disappear into the thick of the forest. He was unsure what had fazed her, and yet something within his nature had dared her to misplace her footing, persuaded her to do what he was so confident she would regret. He had expected so much more from her, and yet it seemed most of his people were untrustworthy, and Eris was only one of several upon the list. She had re-arrived upon an evening sunset, and Isardis had spent the majority of the day meandering the borders of which she had crossed, eager for her return. He had been willing to burn his way through whomever she had crossed paths with, and yet something told him her discipline wasn?t worth the risk of his child?s life. The stench of Valhalla was heavy as she returned, and a low growl would rumble within his throat as he had chosen to remain concealed against the pale backdrop of his snow-encased Kingdom; a babe hung within her jaws, perhaps enough to ease his anger back down to less dangerous levels. Silently, the ghoul would waltz within her wake, watching with intent as her spawn was buried beneath the surface. It was when she resurfaced he would show himself, stepping out from beneath the shield of a low pine; eerily silent, as he would retain his distance from her; self-inflicted measures to persuade himself from pounding some form of wisdom into her. ?Did the Valhallan?s enjoy your visit, deserter?? his voice would remain void, seamless, sliding amidst powerful jaws of cunning promise as he stood illuminated by fading lights of violet. A ghostly rolling of disturbed chuckles would taint his previous grace, fading out into the rumble of a mystifying snarl.

	She had been prepared, knew the consequences of her actions if she was caught. The moment she went into labor, she had expected the challenge of explaining to Isardis, her actions. Gone was the timid she-wolf who hid from every noise, Gone was the woman who would back down. In her place stood a woman who stood up for her beliefs and refused to be bullied, or back down. Her golden eyes landed on the pallid form of her king as he made his presence known, her eyes were narrowed, and she stood, her form gaurding her den, their child, her ears flattening to her head when he spoke. This wasn't going to go well. "Tell me, Isardis," She began, "Are you going to allow me to explain, or are you going to make wild assumptions based off of arrogance?" Perhaps she was pushing it, but she wasn't being called a deserter. Deserters didn't come back. Settling onto her haunches, she stared at him, her ears coming to raise on her head, watching her liege attentively. "The word deserter makes implications that I wouldn't come back, and yet here I am." The tone in which she spoke was light. Silence fell from her for a moment, before speaking. "A wise king also knows when he owes his enemy a token of gratitude." She paused for a moment, before continuing. "The healer of Valhalla, is the only reason your daughter is alive to see this dawn. I had no intention of going into labor there, if you were female, you'd understand that, labor is not something you can control. Had I gone into labor here, you would have been looking at all of us dead, my liege. Now, are you even the slightest bit interested to know why, I sought out Valhalla, or has my sentence already been made in that calculating mind of yours, hmm?" Falling silent again, she waited for his reply, wondering exactly where this conversation would go.

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