Sea Lion Shores the halls of our fathers

With the exchange of names complete, Ragna felt comfortable stepping forward. She rounded him slowly, so as to show she meant no harm. Ragna sniffed as his flank, identifying and filing away his scent, the scent of the new Bay wolves. She nodded at the repetition of her name, uttered notably without any stuttering.

Szymon asked about her own worship, and Ragna hesitated. She was unsure how to explain her beliefs, which were vague and only existed as a duality. She was agnostic and gnostic at once, believing that all gods existed but that there was not one for her. It would require more verbal agility than she had. I do not, she said simply. She thought of the wolves in the copse and their foreign god, Molech. Call me heathen, but there is no god for me.