Dragoncrest Cliffs oathkeeper

@Kierkegaard!

Nothing remained.

The Northmaiden could swear that the Gods themselves set upon the land with such a fury that boiled the trees, and set the Wilds alight with cleansing flame. A great swath had been cut from the world, leaving this place hollow, and abandoned. A numbness that twined with her toes, and clambered up her legs to settle uncertainly in her gut. No one would accept the Sterkrson in this dire time; the woman who passed through to Helheimr. But she could not return to Broddr's Rise, not with the dogs of the traitorous priest chained at the gate. She felt trapped, and it didn't sit well with the feral beast that dwelled within.

Solveig set her ears back flat against her dome and cast a look out towards the distant waters. She recalled Shadow, the dreamer turned King, and felt a dull sense of longing for the ironcast wolf. "How queer," she muttered, unfamiliar with such a distinct, definiable regret, for the she-wolf rarely felt remorse towards anything. She narrows her eyes and turns away from the ocean. If there was food to be had, it would be near the only source of life left in this land: the sea.

Your soundtrack choice is on point!

 

The Teekon wilderness had been ravaged. Once lush and beautiful, Kierkegaard found himself wondering how long it had taken to fall to chaos. The locusts had littered the land. The trees were stripped bare by the wicked insects. The famine that followed was ravaging the wolves who called it home. The ashen nomad could not determine how long he would allow himself to stay under such conditions. He had survived on his own for the vast majority of his life, and he knew enough of starvation to understand that it would only bring death to those around it.
 
The coast had offered him shore-washed fish that tasted of bile and brine, but he had found that hunger would drive him to eat nearly anything. And since arrival, the ghostly figure had spent his time teetering near the borders of Caiaphas’ pack. In spite of this, Kierkegaard was not a beast of the water. When he was not scrounging for scraps of food, the ashen male lurked along the cliffs.
 
Standing on a jutting crag of rock, the Sairensu male cast curious golden eyes to the honey-hued woman. She seemed to have come to the same conclusion that he had; locusts could not drive animals from the sea. Still, as curious as he was, the ragged creature kept his distance and watched.