The Tangle bird watching goes both ways

She's running herself ragged, she knows, but her anxious heart can't help but force her into motion each and every day; sometimes back to Wardruna, and sometimes further from him. She's noticed something, and although she has not asked in order to confirm her suspicions, it gives her new fuel for her wanderings.

Wardruna is looking for something. Sif will look for it, too.

And while the Tangle doesn't seem like the best place to look for the sort of thing Wardruna wants, Sif has found more unique items in less likely places. Besides, she likes the way the thorns drag through her fur - almost like being groomed by another wolf, except with more blood and less warmth. That's okay; Sif doesn't really know the difference. She rubs against the vines as though they are the softest of tongues, leaving tufts of fur and droplets of blood in her wake. (These are superficial wounds. She can survive it. She will.)

And then, just as she'd suspected would happen, a girl soon materializes out of the gloom, young and ripe for the picking.

"Hallo," says Sif, squeezing through a tangle of vines to stand a few feet from the patterned youth. "Are you nem?" No, that wasn't quite right... "Naame?"