Big Salmon Lake in the middle of the day

he sought others, now. company. and as much as he appreciated the company of @Cathal, the squire, he could not help but yearn for those that fell into the same category as him age and species wise. the young dog held a special place in his heart, of course, but iseldur thought of him as a mac, and so now he was searching for adult friends. someone he could hunt with, who could protect themselves on their own.

paws brought him through the snow, towards a lake. much smaller than the one he had visited a few days prior. this one had a thin layer of ice forming on its surface, and iseldur made the mental note to return to this place in a few weeks' time, when the ice would be at its thickest and it would likely be safe to walk along. a small hum, then, before he came to the rim and bent his head down for a drink. tail swaying behind him.

having satisfied his parched throat, he blinked once, twice, removing any fallen snow from his lashes before he would scan the area, verdant gaze taking in all the details. no one was spotted, no prey, nor predator, so he tilted his head back, lips coming together to form a howl, calling for someone ; a friend, an enemy, someone to drink with, to chat with. he did not care for who, or what, only that he met someone he could befriend.

sólhárr's approach was marked by the crunch of snow under his paws, each step deliberate, his frame cutting a formidable figure against the stark landscape. the faint echo of the howl still lingered in the air, and his golden gaze locked on the blonde male drinking at the frozen lake’s edge.

he grunted, a low and guttural sound that broke the stillness like the crack of distant ice. his tail swayed slowly behind him, neither aggressive nor inviting, simply marking his presence. he paused a few paces away, the faint mist of his breath curling into the cold air as he regarded the stranger with a narrowed gaze.

drink much here? sólhárr rumbled, his voice thick with the cadence of his broken tongue, yet steady. he tipped his head slightly, gesturing toward the icy surface of the lake. his expression was unreadable, but his body language carried the weight of a hunter sizing up both opportunity and risk.

man approached him. stranger, swathed similarly to him, though whereas iseldur was the light of a burning sun at noon, the one who approached was that of a red dusk. verdant eyes locked on the figure, watching him carefully, ears flicking as the stranger nodded to the lake, to the water that still lingered beneath the ice and around the rim.

not often, he replied, a tongue of his own lacing his words. gaelic in all of its beauty. i've only just arrived here, with my son, his 'son' being a small, over-excited dog who had yet to know hardships thanks to the golden knight that protected him, kept him safe. he wondered, though, just how far he lingered away from the man. perhaps it was time to go searching for him again, though he doubted that he strayed too far.

and you? he said, now. come 'ere often?

his expression taut with the strain that had begun to coil in his chest as the wedding drew nearer.

sometimes, he replied, voice gruff, clipped, a hard edge to his words that spoke of his restlessness. he glanced briefly toward the lake, its icy surface reflecting the muted winter light, before turning his gaze back to the stranger.

busy days ahead, he added after a pause, though his tone did not invite further conversation. tension rolled off him like the frost-bitten winds, and though he stood still, his posture bristled with unspent energy.

'busy days'? the golden man echoed, giving the stranger a sidelong glance.

whether or not he received an answer, he would then say: i am iseldur, returning his gaze to the lake. a distant scent was amongst this mans pelt. you ... smell of cicero. are you, ah, from ... what did he call it, forneskja? a flick of his sunkissed tail, then.

cicero said you may have room for two more, but iseldur said this with a snort, revealing that he was not too keen on joining as of yet, and opening up the topic of his son, should the man before him ask who the other out of the 'two' was. his boy, cathal.