The wedding grew nearer, and Pangur's heart thrummed a mad melody in her chest! She was so so happy, happy for the love between the fearsome, wild hunter Harkonungr and the reliable, strong heart of Seidkona, happy that she had a place in it all, a trusted role. She grew giddy simply waiting for the celebration!

Pangur had grown accustomed to the sweet scent of moonflowers, given that they grew around the glenn in vast troves, even now, when winter took firm hold of the land; they perservered.

—And what a beautiful thing they represented, love unbroken by even the coldest of winds or darkest of days. Pangur paused a moment to wonder if Harkonungr knew such meanings when he sent her to collect more of them, the man could be surprisingly studious!

The flowers at least, were widespread through the forest, Pangur did not wish to take from those that already lined the clearing, and so she had come all this way out here. From @Callyope, she had spent the night meticulously fashioning a primitive satchel out of the rabbit hide, so that now it might hold all that Pangur would come to find.

Soon to be Náttfari followed the sweet scent on the still breeze, until she came to a large bush, its branches and vines seeking to melt in with the trees that flanked it, reaching up their trunks and wrapping itself around. How many would she need? Best to gather in excess, just in case, though Pangur would still not rob the bush of all it had. Carefully, she got to work—well, semi-carefully, she was no herb-gatherer, and so her teeth crudely plucked at individual flowers, accidentally snipping some all too close to their petals. Eee! Shoot. She muttered aloud as she ruined a few, ripped white pieces fluttering to the ground, and here she stood over the remains, a look of guilt plastered to her face. Terrible Pangur, killer of pretty flowers.

Ah well, she was not one to cry over spilt flower petals, she got back to work after a moment, trying at the very least to not ruin every single one she plucked. She took some as they were, and others on long, versatile branches, so that they might be strewn around the altar. By the end of it, she had a satchel filled with white, fragrant moonflowers. Ivy came with less precision, though she did walk a fair mile to find vines untouched by winter frost; and she had already utilized much of her satchel space, instead she draped the vines over her neck and shoulders, she would look much like a bush when she returned. She did not mind the silly look it might've given her, Pangur was rather stubbornly determined to collect all in one big trip. She would be a model Náttfari.

Look! See how I find all things I need! The path to each was lightened by the gods, luck, yet to fail her. She danced around in the glee of her own mind a while before returning to the task at hand, the final one.

Last, came the silk of spiders, a rarity in such weather! All the wonderful little spiders had disappeared under the weight of the winter, Pangur felt a little bad to steal their homes while they slept away the cold, but ah! it must be done1 She looked for a stick beneath the snow, and pulled up, snapping off the tiny spindling twigs until she had a straight, simple branch. Through the forest she went, sweeping up abandoned, frosty webs with the end of her stick, until she had a webbed bunch at the very tip.

Satisfied with all she had gathered, she would go to @Solharr, and give to him her offerings. With his approval, she would get to work decorating the glen with @Y'var'la.