Duskfire Glacier quoth the raven, “nevermore”
All Welcome  June 11, 2017, 10:32 PM
Lone Wolves

It was June and the summer was beginning to become stifling. Hüginn and Müninn, dextrous and seasoned as they were, often found their relentless travels cut short during the hottest hours of high noon. Many an oppressive afternoon were spent ‘neath the spreading, low-lying branches of the northern evergreens; but the old spring rains had soaked the ground thoroughly, and just so, the ravens could escape the sun but they could not escape the season's humectation. 

The temperature rose and so did Muninn’s temper; she became easily frustrated and snappish over foolish things, and she recognized this but did not have the ability to stop it — she had never wanted to, of course, so she did not mourn this inability. The woman was untouched by the fingers of guilt and did not know how to [or simply could not] procure that emotion from within her. Hers was a feigned guilt; a face which she had mastered long ago and used well to their advantage, but a life without recoil [and with Hüginn’s steadfast sponsorship and support], her curious vivacity had been allowed to blossom entirely unfettered.


As she crested a hill, Müninn let out a satisfied sigh. In front of them, in the far distance, there was an expanse of ice and rock, nestled between several peaks and spilling into the moraine below. It seemed smaller than the description they had been told. Müninn cut her silvered gaze to see the landmark more clearly, straining her neck forward as if the extra one of two inches could significantly cleared her vision. She had run ahead to scout, so the woman called out to the moving, shadowed statue to her rear. “See? Her pointed ears perched high on her crown.

“There’s the glacier — just like he said.”

They had come from the north at the behest of the man they had met roadside, Bane. Their road had been direct, and their combined directional capabilities kept them moving at a fast clip — but the day was becoming later, and the sun stronger, and in front of them laid the answer to their impending exhaustion. “Guess we’re going the right way, huh?” she said smugly, looking o’r her shoulder towards her stalwart twin. “Let’s check it out.” Hüginn was not one to speak much, so Müninn made sure to fill the silences — but her twin did not need to speak for her to know what he was thinking. They were born together, they would live together, and eventually, they would die together... of this, she was certain. 

two ravens flew from ódin’s
shoulders; hüginn to the hanged
and müninn to the slain