Blacktail Deer Plateau Will of the dragon

For the briefest of moments, as the sound of approaching footfalls gave way to a polite greeting in a decidedly feminine voice, Frostrar considered that perhaps this plateau was not as abandoned as the remnants of faded border markings had led him to believe. He soothed the concern for two plausible reasons: the first for the simple fact that the voice had not held within it anything he would have initially taken to be hostility, and second: the claim was fading upon these lands. If any of the pack still lingered here well ...they had no leg to stand on to be territorial, as far as Frostrar was concerned. The Scandinavian born, however, was true to his nature and turned to face the voice that had called to him with stiff caution. He was weary but this was normal. His trust was not easily earned and thus not freely given to strangers simply because it might have followed societal norm. Red eyes assessed her with continued rigidity born of his habitual caution. Small, perhaps around his age — maybe a bit older, coat as dark as obsidian, striking silver eyes that stand out in an ethereal contrast to the darkness of her fur. Pretty, Frostrar decided as mentally went over his assessment; though he did not speak any of these aloud. Regardless, a pretty face wasn't about to get him to let his guard down.

She could be a threat, still. Gyda had proven time and time again that size didn't always matter and Frostrar had seen his older sister in action enough times to wholeheartedly believe those vehement reminders. So, too, had Sif. Her greeting had been given in the common tongue and so, simply, Frostrar offered her a “Hello,” in return, his words thickly accented so much that it very nearly sounded like it's Norse counterpart.