Nova Peak and when the gods summon

the bitter, nipping cold did not faze the wildling woman as she trapezed across the landscape. the clock was ticking, time was wasting away—the sun would rise and war would follow. 

a war that they must win. if not for darukaal's claim, for gjalla. the injured woman the white sparrow had to leave behind in order to obey faust's plead. worry had no place in her heart though; gjalla was a strong woman. 

she would stare death in the eyes and evade it. she must. 

@Lorcan's scent was faint, but it was all she needed. blazing a path after it. eager, determined. she would not call for him—she could not afford to alert the same winsook wolves that had interrupted her again. 

she would not allow it to happen this time. the stakes were higher. this was not about pleasure. it was for the survival of the north. for the death of saatsine. 

his shadowed figure found cloaked by the shadows of the night. svalla stood stall, sides heaving from exertion. "you," she exhaled, voice brokering no arguments. "will fight for darukaal. there is war coming. we need strength. your leaders turn us away as cowards. will you follow their path?"

shock rolls upon his dark face. the woman, the wraith, come stalking the foothills of the peak again. had she not learned her lesson the first time?
he was sore to turn her away of his own volition, but it must be done. the first encounter nothing more than a fluke. a mistake. a momentary lapse in his good judgement.
his jaws agape to speak—but he is rudely cut off first. by a demands, that bring his brows raising, his teeth unsheathed from their place at his snout. you demand of me? his tail arcs high.
but it is not for any moral reason he defends. he does not care for the internal politics of these northern clans; he cares only for himself, and what belonged to him: his wife, his unborn children. no, he defends because:
i do not work for free. illitu qaujimanngittuq.

svalla has to resist the urge to sneer in the man's face. he postures, and she does as well—sleek muscles shifting beneath her ghostly coat, coiling with anticipation. 

but she would not strike. he worked for a price—of fucking course. men like him were always wanting, taking, greedy. this was no time or place for her heady judgement, though. 

with a sigh and sharp, pointed eyes, she nods. "then tell me what your price is to fight." whatever it may be, faust would see it given. there was no choice.

a smirk. so they would pay his penance? surely...
it was no cheap one.
he lurks closer, coming to breath her air and then to pull away swiftly. head rising like a snake, his gold eyes flitting curiously across her.
my price is high. he rasps, circling her once and then twice. inhaling her fur; smelling her man, smelling their people. the glacier.
i am not sure your people could pay it.

although she stood resolute and was on the path to redemption, her patience was still thin. and her fuse was still short. a growl rises from the depths of her chest, icy eyes sharp enough to cut. 

"spit it out, merc." she snapped, following his serpentine movements. tail lashing once in warning. "give me your price. if i have to ask again, you will gain nothing."

nothing but an enemy or two.

he inhales a deep breath. i want... he trails off, thinking, considering.
above all, he sought to be comfy. lorcan tsks audibly, coming to a stop upon the ice melt, tail swishing thoughtfully. let me think.
he stalls. he centers his gaze on the woman. for a second, he considers asking for her body. but alas, that was out of question. he hums and then turns to look back at the den in the distance, where elowen is tucked away safely.
a bear hide, he smirks, for my wife. she labors soon. i wish her to be comfy.

for her body... LORCAN YOU NAUGHTY MUTT

svalla rolls her eyes, jaw setting and teeth grinding. her irritation and impatience mounting more and more by the second. if the stakes weren't so high, and if recruiting one man had not been able to help turn the tides of the war to come, she would have maimed him. 

but faust would want her to be patient. gjalla needed her to be patient.

finally, he'd named his price. 

a bears fur. a large price, but one that could not be rejected. 

"consider it done. the moment the war has ended and we claim victory, i will hunt your fucking bear." she huffed. she watched him warily, as if expecting him to be a weasel and fish for more. 

but he does not. and so she steps back toward the forest, ready to burn a trail back home. "i will call for you, when we ready for battle." 

that is all she gives, before she is gone. the white sparrow flying its way north.