They had left the thicket behind and had trekked across a stretch of land until they were met with towering maples. Spring had afforded them new buds that were flowering in beads of crimson and russet against a brown backdrop. Even the birds found the new life to be favorable to their nests and they twittered softly overhead while the Nord and his companion passed beneath the boughs of the looming trees. The sun flickered through the branches, casting them in a golden glow that warmed Kodlak’s coat and bathed his frame in fever. Once he had found a suitable place to rest in the shade, the Nord turned to Niamh and smiled before he stretched himself out and propped himself up on his roughly coated elbows.
 
“These trees are appealing. I can only imagine what color they will take when the fall comes,” he remarked softly to her. The premise of fall was near to his heart. Fall brought chilling nights and the first snows before winter swept through with her gritty, icy claws. Once it snowed, Kodlak was certain that he would feel more of a comfort in their lands. “Very well, you had requested more tales of my homeland. What would you like to know, huntress Niamh?”

“I would imagine they take the form of fire in the trees,” he mused, pointed his muzzle toward the sky with a sweep of his sea-foam gaze toward the budding leaves. Maples like that had never grown in the northern territories. Jorrvaskr had consisted of very little foliage, but instead had stretching landscapes that seemed to run for years. When he had first departed his homeland, Kodlak had thought that he might never see the end of the frozen wastes. It had come as a great shock to him to discover that there was very much of the world that he did not know. The Nord was not opposed to this; his travels had paved the way for new interests and for his knowledge to flourish against the harsh realities of what the earth had to offer to the wild kind that lived upon it. Wild was all that he knew; the great Wuuthrad of the wolves of Jorrvaskr was contrived of all savage things in the world and placed in a humble, dusted shell.
 
Niamh inquired about the lights that he had spoken of before. Kodlak offered her a simple smile and pulled his gaze down from the skies and the birds that pranced overhead. The light of his gaze wandered to her and he drew his salmon colored tongue along his lips with a thoughtful expression. “The northern lights of Jorrvaskr are unlike anything you would ever see in a lifetime. They dance overhead in a night sky – great pillars and twines of tropical green and galactic violet – but they are a rare sight. We would often sit beneath the stars and wait for the northern lights to arrive so that we could chase them. They could never be caught, but it was a tribute to Hircine; the god of the hunt.” The more he spoke of his home, and their customs, the more he had started to miss the tundra where he had been made. It was good to share his experiences with those around him, but he wondered if he would ever get the chance to see the dancing lights again.

The sandy huntress seemed enthralled in his tales. Kodlak found this bolstering; he had never been one to fashion words into images that he could share. He had always used his brute strength and the sharp snap of his fangs to convey the messages that he needed. There were others who were far more capable of weaving a story that would take you to a faraway place. The Nord missed some of them, and the thought left a painstaking burn in the pit of his gut. Try as he might, Kodlak was not the storyteller of his people; he was the weapon and the leader of the Companions, but nothing more. It still warmed him to see such a sharp twinkle in the gaze of another, no matter how lacking his tales might have been. It allowed him to imagine himself in another role, perhaps another life.
 
She asked him about whether or not they could be seen from the Teekon Wilds. Kodlak’s brow furrowed over the swelling sea color of his gaze. He frowned thoughtfully and peered at their surroundings with wonder. “I do not know, but I should like to see it if it is possible. I will say we are in the wrong season for such beautiful tricks of light in the sky. We would have many months to go before they would start to appear,” he explained to her with a soft rumbling baritone. It would have been nice to see the northern lights again. He wondered if the huntress would like to see Jorrvaskr, or if she would trust him enough to travel such a great distance with him. He thought it foolish to ask, so he refrained.