Stone Circle the rage of mountains when they tremble

Wardruna offers a sage nod, a quiet noise of acknowledgement that Noma becoming a pup sitter for Valette could be an option if she wanted it to be. Perhaps, Wardruna thinks, it will do his thrall some good. He doesn’t trust her completely, of course, but he trusts her enough. As much as he presumes she hates him she has not taken any of the chances she’s had. Valette puts emphasis on Noma’s name as if she is a separate entity of the northerner. Of course, the choice is his thrall’s and he would not influence her decision either way but he looks to Valette with a critical eye for a second before his gaze slides back to the path before them. “I do not know …ah, …she will talk to you,” It doesn’t sound quite right as it rolls off his tongue though he is not entirely aware he’s accidentally emitted a word from his translation. “but you can try.” Wardruna tells Valette simply: because he suspects that his Noma is hiding something from him …and perhaps Easthollow just as he does. He doesn’t want to hide …but these southern wolves seem so soft and would likely take insult to him taking her as thrall and the only reason he cares is because he is dependent upon Easthollow. It’s messy business, being dependent.

“I will take right,” Wardruna decides without a moment’s hesitation. He doesn’t need to think about it: he will keep the deer in his sight at all times or risk being kicked in the head. “Já.” The northerner gestures for her to split off from him as he hunkers down low in the underbrush, peeking through the breaks in the spindly branches to fixate his singular eye upon their target.