The Tangle you cannot swallow a life

shadowkissed northman trudges thru the unpleasant territory; a minefield of rocks, spiny shrubbery that catches on the wispier fur at his belly, and sharp drops cloaked by hardy grasses that he spends too much time trying to avoid lest he step wrong and break his leg. the warped witchtrees remind him of home, however; and soothe the worst of the unease that this cursed place sparks. magna, he commands softly of the albino raven nested in the thick fur at his scruff, her weight settling always comfortably between the junction of his shoulders. she runs her beak thru the windswept and saltsmeared fur there. she takes flight with a ruffle of snowkissed feathers leaving synin behind as she rises above the treeline in search of a way out the labyrinth for the morning.

would it have been a labyrinth of stone, snow and ice like the many fjords of his home, or the peak in which the rífaspira settled synin would’ve navigated it with a practiced ease despite the foreignness of this land. in the tangle’s heart he settles as hati begins her chase of the moon. during the light of day it is treacherous, in the shadows of night synin would for sure end up a corpse for the ravens to feast upon.

he scratches at a bed of soft moss, thinking it would suffice in lieu of an actual sleeping place when magna returns, but ten minutes later. in her beak is a limp mouse. synin watches her for a moment as she gulps it down a soft snort of affection given for the corvid. dveljask kærr, magna. synin warns in his native tongue. sási skipa halda háski.

She tried not to go too far, because the woman knew she'd get terribly lost. The Taiga was not very known to her yet but she still ventured. In hindsight, she was following a particularly interesting sight; a white raven. Not to eat or attack, but she was curious about it. Wren had never seen the likes of one before. Honestly, it was almost mythical. As the bird dipped into the trees, she bounded after it. If the avian was aware she was following it, it made no indication. 

Pushing past the trees and foliage, she spotted another wolf. The raven landed by him and he utters affectionate words to it. So... a familiar? A companion? These were words she had heard regarding wolves pairing up with 'lesser' animals. Wren was going to leave. She took a step back, her back leg creaking against foliage. It snapped and the brunette started. Her face grew hot, realizing she had been had. "Sorry" she uttered immediately "I was just admiring your... friend?"

But that could be seen as a threat. "I've n-never seen one of them before. That's all."

magna does not come alone. in his godsgift’s wake comes a woman of earthen and over-creamed coffee browns with eyes nebula blue. easily, she could’ve been mistaken for freyja in flesh if she did not strike him as awkward. it is her speech that ruins the illusion, chasing it away as if it were a spooked hare. her apology and explanation are met with curious eyes; guarded. though he could hardly imagine such a thing, it does not fall beneath his notice that some wolves might consider magna prey. ravens were sacred to the allfather. my companion, synin speaks in heavily accented agreement. her name is magna and i am synin.

and i would die to keep her safe.

she is unique, synin agrees, canting the side of his face with a scratched out eye towards the shoulder where magna perches. a gift from my gods.

You couldn't swing a dead rabbit without some wolf barking about their gods. Was religion that important or was she so ignorant to not have noticed it before? Cyrileth had been religious to some wolves, but those wolves kept largely to themselves. Wren's head tilted slightly. "She's lovely" the woman agreed toward the raven "I'm Wren. Good to meet you two."

The man did not seem very... intimidating. He was open and honest, which suited the brunette just fine. She felt she could relax a bit. "Can you tell me about your religion?" she ventured. Yes, she had been closed off before. But meeting wolves here, she'd be diving into more cultures sooner or later. Might as well ask all she could if it didn't bother anyone.

synin gives a small nod; figuring that speaking any further would only be a redundancy that wasn’t needed. the stranger introduces herself as wren and he plays around with it in his head; tempering it out, as if he might be able to figure out how to speak it out loud and not butcher it with his accent. no doubt, regardless, it would fall strange sounding compared to the easy way in which the singular sound that rolls of her tongue.

her inquiry draws a soft chuckle from synin’s lips; for while he appreciates the interest in his beliefs there is far too much to unpack in one day let alone the time they would spend in one another’s company here, especially given that he is travel weary. there is far too much to tell you in any one day, synin offers as an explanation to his earlier chuckle. where to even start? magna’s feathers ruffle, wingtip brushing against his ear as she stretches it to nibble at an inch and smooth her feathers.

it gives synin an idea; to offer a somewhat relevant tidbit that might satisfy wren’s curiosity for the time being, at least. i call magna my godsgift for she came to me when i woke from the fevered dreams that flowed in the wake of sacrificing my eye to the allfather, havi; better known among my people as odin. synin weaves the tale with a wordsmith’s ease. you see, ravens are sacred companions to the allfather. he has two, huginn and muninn — thought and memory — and each day they scour the nine realms for information, reporting it back to odin at the end of each day when hati stirs to chase the moon.

magna is how i know he favors me. it does not occur to synin that waking to find magna nested against him was simply because her siblings pushed her out of the nest in the tree above him and he was the closest and warmest thing; large enough to keep hungry predators from hunting her.

She supposed that was fair, considering his next explanation caused too many questions and not enough answers. Odin? Ravens? Hati? Being favored? Wren felt herself recline upon the earth, giving Synin a puzzled but polite look. She didn't give him questions in return, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. "So you gave your eye to Odin" she repeats, having not cared and not judged him for having one less eye "did he ask you to?"

It was not a judgemental tone, more curious than anything. Some wolves claimed gods spoke to them. Some claimed they gave gifts in return. Magna in return for an eye. She guessed it was a good bargain; now Synin had three eyes instead of two. "I don't really think any god favors me" Wren went on, shaking her head somewhat "I lived by the ocean for a long time - but nobody spoke to me." They certainly did not give her a gift like Magna.

no, synin responds to her inquiry. i gave it willingly so that i might taste some of the knowledge he possesses. for you see, odin gave his own eye for knowledge; that is why the call him allfather — he is all seeing, all knowing. king among the æsir. sometimes our gods do ask things of us. they are not always kind. he admits with a lofty shrug of his shoulders, wincing as magna's talons dig into his flesh at her displeasure at nearly being unseated from her perch upon said shoulder(s).

though synin loved his gods he was not so blinded by it that he could not see that they could cruelly take away just as generously as they could give.

njǫror, chief of the vanir is the god of the wind and sea, synin offers. perhaps you were just praying to the wrong god, or no gods at all. he has no idea what sort of culture raised her, after all and he does not mean to sound as condescending as he perhaps does. he meant it light-heartedly; almost but not quite a joke. he might not call the sea home but that did not mean he wanted to invoke the wrath of the vanir cheiftan all the same; and besides, everyone could hold to their own beliefs.

Wren bobs her head, taking the information with a grain of salt. She was never a religious wolf, and never would be. But it was still nice to see someone devoted to their own stuff. "I see" she appears grateful for the talk and information, having never come across a wolf who thought this stuff. "the place I came from before, some of the natives believed in constellations." The brunette lifted her head to the sky, where the stars she knew twinkled.

"They believed if you were born under a bad sign, you were beyond redemption. That you were evil and had to be cleansed from the earth" she cracks a dry smile "it wasn't so much the gods that were unkind, but the mortals." The gods in her previous realm never spoke to her either, but she knew some wolves thought they did with them. Probably to further their own goals and justify their actions. But she was just telling Synin, like he told her his stuff.

"I hope your gods don't ask you to do that sort of thing" Wren utters.