The river that ended in the ocean had carried him inland, through thick forestry and lush foliage that carried with it the promise of spring. The waters were still cold enough to raise bumps in his flesh. Still, the Nord had allowed the twisting rivulet to lead him south.
 
It was at a dual-path that he paused. Shimmering eyes followed two directions, unaware of the isle that had nestled itself in between. Further south, he saw the promise of another forest. Kodlak passed through the water and onto land before shaking the free droplets from his pelt and pointing himself toward the rolling hills that stood between him and the wood at the other end. With daylight fading, he would need somewhere to rest and wait for morning to shed light on his travels.
 
Bending his neck to the earth, the Nord breathed deeply before he pressed forward.

There was a cold that burned far deeper. It was one that had found a home only in the furthest reaches of the northern landmarks; a wind that whipped across icy tundra and polar waters. Nothing could compare to that which was Jorrvaskr. Having been raised in the clasps of her frigid hand, Kodlak had endured most things that cut a bitter chill against his flesh. The waters of the Teekon Wilds were not enough to test his spirit, or to dampen his hopes of reaching the base of the distant mountains.
 
Spring had only just entered their land, but the Nord could already feel a shift in the air. The temperature was even, with only a light biting from the wind and the threatening plumes of storm clouds that rolled overhead. The Harbinger cast his gaze upward and followed their patterns with some interest before the sound of shedding water had pulled his attention from the gloomy overcast sky.
 
Turning sharply, the dusty warrior caught sight of a peculiar shape and color. Her coat was light, pallid in appearance, and her eyes seemed to set a startling contrast to the rest of her features in the form of salmon pinks that had spread to her nose. Albinism was not common among the wolves of Jorrvaskr, so he openly watched the unnamed female before feeling within himself that he was being impolite. With a quick shake of his light agouti coat, the Nord barked softly to her in hopes of drawing the swimmer’s attention. His tail wavered once at his rear.  

The northern ice had made him a fearless fighter. He had been forged in the very chilling depths of Jorrvaskr with stone and stinging waters. Kodlak did not fear the fang of another, nor did he turn away from the prospect of crossing paths with one who was not favorable to him. There was boldness in the Whitemane blood. They were not the type to cow to an adversary, no matter the odds. The Nordic warrior did note how she peered at him with a watchful glint in her sharp salmon colored gaze. In doing this, Kodlak lowered his skull into a customary bow that granted him less of a frightful appearance. There was not intention to frighten her, but he would not hail her again if she chose to flee.
 
“Greetings icy maiden,” he offered to her in a soft baritone. The swelling sea foam of his gaze did not leave her shape, for he was not foolish enough to leave himself unprepared in the face of a stranger. Kodlak saw her expression, wrought with concern, and he offered her a smile that toyed along the edges of his lips just enough to break through the grizzled appearance. The land had shaped him into a creature of power; a brute among his own kind. The Nord still had his manners and his customs at his back.

The peculiar girl seemed as though she was fumbling through their interaction. The Nord took an instinctive step back to allow her room to breathe; he was not interested in testing her mettle or the sharpness of her fang. He had fought far worse, but the warrior was not fond of backing others into a corner. The wild wolves knew well how to maneuver their limbs to strike in ways that would cause pain to even the most skilled of his kind. He was healthy and capable, but more than this was an underlying sense of understanding that forced him to breathe against the wisps of air for signs of her feverish fear. Perhaps his caution was not warranted, but he was far keener on being safer than he was on having to defend himself.
 
It was the question that afforded him a moment of reprieve from his stoic stance before her. The Nord allowed a smile to crack his features and he chuckled softly. “Ah, the frigidness of the water does little to me. I hail from lands far colder than this one,” the Wuuthrad responded in a confident tone. It was instinct that turned his nose toward the north. It was longing that turned the smile downward into a thoughtful frown. Kodlak missed his homeland dearly, but he had struck out to build a life of his own and to join more companions beneath him. The great tundra of Jorrvaskr would always remain close to his heart, but he knew that he could not allow it to dwindle his fierce spirit.