Astrid wasn't entirely certain what she'd expected today when she'd made the executive decision to wander toward the Seer Stones. Companionship as of late had primarily been found in Sven and father; the only two who, presently, seemed to be able to tolerate her existence. Rarely did she also go to Tauris and Inkeri, flitting in and out of their dens like an ogre who lives under the bridge. She didn't much mind the little ones that still nestle close to their breasts, particularly those of Tauris — at least their mouths were too full of milk to complain about her.
Today, the boar-child traipses across the fall blooms and into the open meadow, watching as the vultures swing overhead. She lopes and then slows, runs and then grinds to a trot.
When she looks again to the ground level, a figure unknown draws her gaze. Tall, ragged, dark. Perhaps if she were old enough for a concept of such, she would have thought him handsome. Hæ! she calls, unbothered and unafraid. Who're you? You look like a ghost. teeter, totter, teeter, totter as she winds closer. Are you a ghost?

So he was not a ghost. I'm Astrid, she replies, head tilted in a proud lift of her chin. Gunnar and Taktuq are my parents. You know my parents, right?
Certainly he did, because he was, presumably, a man of Kvarsheim; but perhaps she should just make sure.
She stomps closer to him with a heavy trudge and lumbers around him in a half-circle before easing down into a lazy sit beside him. Many things? her eyebrows narrow in intrigue. Like what?

He reads bones? He speaks to the gods? Pah! Astrid could hardly believe some random black-leather fool sitting about in her land was smart enough or godly enough. Did she even believe in those? Frankly, she didn't know, nor did she really care.
She flops with a loud thump into a lay, forepaws stretched out in front of her and toes splayed crudely. You read bones? How d'you do that? she tilts her head suspiciously. Can you read myyyyy bones? then, her ears come to a great swivel, a devilish excitement brewing. I think my bones'll tell me I'm gonna be, like, a warrior princess. I am one, y'know. Did you know that, mister Ingram? That I'm a princess?
She was not. He didn't need to know that.

Awwwwwwwwwwww! her eyebrows furrow as she expels a loud, disappointed groan. Why tease her like this? Why deny her of her bone-truth?! Can you read the bones of, like, a rabbit, then? if not her bones, it would be something else's bones. She does not wait for an answer. With a devious little smirk, she rises quickly to her feet and thunders in the direction of one of the nearby food stores. No one would care if she stole one measly rabbit, right? She could eat it later, totally! She was old enough to do that now!
Swiping the carcass with a snap of her jaws, she drags it back over to Ingram and plops it at his feet with a soft grumble. Teach me how to read the bones! for she was a princess, and she deserved to know.