Twisted Slough a wind age

Time and travel had muddied Ragna's accent. It was not instantly recognizable as any one, but as a patchwork that represented the variety of the places she had lived. This was not true of the woman. Ragna found her accent reminiscent of the wolves of Odinn's Cove, and the part of her that loved her family and nourished her roots was jealous.

[b]I was born to the sea,[/q] she said. There bloomed a fondness, nothing permanent, but something nostalgic. She thought of Szymon and the home he and his had made in the bay. For a moment, Ragna thought of retaking the bay not through violence, but by stocking its numbers with wolves that would do right by it. Though this northwoman might not have been a viking, she seemed to be made of the same stuff Ragna was. North of here lies a bay. I was born there.

Solvieg introduced herself as such, and Ragna nodded. Well met, Solveig. I am Ragna of the Malkaria.