Lost Creek Hollow and drew warmth of blood from bone

Nothing, she tells him. She has nothing left, she admits. The gods have brought her to him as they have brought him Noma, as they have brought him Sif. It would seem their design for him continues to expand in ways he does not expect; perhaps he thinks they have not forsaken him after all. He still feels their presence: in the creak of the trees, in the rumble of thunder, in the biting chill of winter, in the cry of a raven overhead. They are all around him: pushing him and guiding him to where he needs to go. The northerner ghosts a step closer: to better study her, the gears in his mind turning. He has nothing to offer her …yet. Nothing but his and the companionship of his other women and even then Wardruna isn’t sure if Noma would choose him over Easthollow in the end when he presents the choice to her, when he frees her. “You could have something,” Wardruna’s muzzle parts and the enigmatic words roll off his tongue in his soft voice, accented with the lilted accent he speaks with. His ears twitch and surprise flits across his expression for the briefest of moments as it is Sif that pops out of the bushes in the stead of Noma. Still, he is not disappointed. He’s grown rapidly attached to the northern woman and he cannot help the preening puff of his chest as she takes a place at his side.

His ears slick back to rest at half mast against his skull at her question that is presumably aimed at both him and the stranger — thus making Wardruna realize that he does not yet know her name. Wardruna fixes Sif in his good eye, having to turn his head to do so before it swings back and his gaze settles upon the woman cross from them. “hún er ekki konan mín.” The northerner speaks to Sif, inclining his muzzle towards her ear, offering the words of his native tongue slowly so she has time to take them in, to understand what he is saying to her. “This is Sif,” He introduces his woman Sif first, gesturing to her with his muzzle. “and I am Wardruna.” He offers his own name then, looking to the woman who spoke of atonement and having nothing expectantly.

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