Firefly Glen [PHE] iron blade

tags for ref or joining! <3

there was a camp which caught eivor's eye next. laid in the woods behind a cast of round stones in imitation of a dry beach, it was inhabited by two women and many children. the young ones flitted in and out of the trees; three raced by the drengr as she came up to bellow a hallo to the women of the camp.

close enough now, she saw that the eyes of the first (@Marina) shone as gemstones taken from the water. the second (@Simbelmyne) was silk-pelted and almost melancholy.  both held a striking way about them. the tall woman offered a wide smile. "i am eivor, of kvarsheim. what can i trade for a sit at your camp?"

if sven was to spar the swiftcurrent girl, she did not want to be far. but neither did the warrior wish to simply stand about, not when there was conversation to be had.

The children at least were lively, though their mother remained at the Moontide camp, as obedient as the livestock guardian breed that was only a few generations back in her heritage. Simbelmyne watched others go about, and did what she could to avoid making eye contact. 

There were others of Moontide more social and more quick to greet those who came to their camp. Simbelmyne and Marina (bless her heart for being so kind!) remained where the skins had been placed. She thought they might be safe from visitation, if others were more charming and flashy.

She wished now that she had brought a project with her to work on- so she might at least look busy. 

Her efforts at going unnoticed were foiled by a tall, blonde woman who strode directly toward them. Simbelmyne fretted, feeling as if she was cornered even though she had every chance to move away. Her tufted ears fell back and her brow furrowed as the inevitable came to pass.

The woman had a voice that was loud, but kind. She offered to trade to sit with them- an unusual request. Sit if you like, She said, as she had no items to trade, and would have asked nothing of the woman anyway. 

She moved, so the tall woman might enjoy the furs she had warmed.

He didn't quite know what to make of all of this.

It was in equal measure thrilling and frightening to meet so many different faces. He was more intrigued by the idea of a hunt—his pursuits in that area had been limited to insects and small birds, and so he was eager to take part.

Alas, per Mother (and other adults) a boy of four months was a bit too young to participate in such a dangerous activity. And after all, she knew best.

Speaking of Mother. . .

Kitimat drew up wordlessly next to Simbelmyne and leveled a hard orange stare upon the pale wolf. What did she want? And what was all this trading business about, anyway? He glanced at his mother, brow furrowed in quiet query.

quietly she took up a place and passed her paw over the soft nature of the furs, appreciating the skill of them. however her grey eyes saw that the wispwillow wolf at her side might not invite her usual bawdy teasing.

she had come here for quiet after all.

now a boy stared, seemingly displeased by her presence. eivor inclined her head to him. "it is loud among everyone else, and hot now that we are mingling. i hope you do not mind if i sit here for a time."

her gaze moved between the two and then she sat upright once more, watching the throng as her ears continued to enjoy the muted laughter.

Her son drew up to her side, his brow furrowed where the dark fur marking his muzzle came to a point between his eyes. She reached out to bestow a kiss there, though she pined nowadays for the velvety-soft baby fur that her children had since shed. Her son was growing- and as amazing as it was, she found herself desperate to keep him just the same, so he might never change or drift away.

Yes, sit, She urged. I am Simbelmyne, this Kitimat, She said, looking to her son then, hoping that his expression might have lifted to know she had intentions of being friendly.

Kitty-mat, he repeated, and sat hard upon his haunches, planting himself firmly beside his mother. He continued to look upon the golden-aura wolf, trying to gauge whether or not she was a threat.

Eventually, it settled, and he did, too, curling close to his mother's forepaws and stretching out there.

Kitimat yawned and went a bit limp—still conscious, but unable to quickly respond to any ruckus that might take place above his head.

simbelmyne and kitimat.

as the boy seemed to lower into dozing, eivor kept her peace. she had felt something there in the moment of mother and son, something she had not seen fit for herself.

many shieldmaidens maintained the important balance of motherhood and warriorship. eivor doubted herself not once in this. it was only the desire. perhaps the absence of northern men and northern women into which some understandings might be entered.

available northern women, she jested to herself, thinking warmly of solveig.

geese flocked overhead in their classic pointed formation, and she felt herself rising with them, imagining in pleasant silence the experience of flight.

Large as he was for his age, Kitimat was still very much a boy. Adult conversations were boring to him, although the women, too, had fallen into silence. His eyelids began to droop, and it wasn't long before they were closed altogether.

Should the dialogue continue, it would carry on over the dulcet tones of a quiet, peaceful snore, the breath of which stirred the silken hair of Simbelmyne's long forelimbs.

Kitty out!