Bitterroot Valley on this earth not alone we stand

west imrathil decides and wardruna's pumpkin orange gaze focuses on the direction with an unbridled intensity. west would guide them towards the coast ...which wardruna does not hold issue with but too far south along the coast and they would be in the mighty ursidae's domain...if he still remained. like with wandering for too long once the frosts come wardruna isn't willing to play fast and loose with their lives to risk finding out of the beast remains. there is not much in the world wardruna fears but death by the mighty ursidae is one of the rare things he does. he is not the berserker he'd once been ...and even if he would have been there is an unlikely chance he'd survive a one-on-one tussle with a bear.

"then we go west." wardruna concludes, drawing in a breath and letting it out as he tucks thoughts away of how he'd found imrathil and the danger they'd narrowly escaped. wardruna takes a step forward, breaking from his place beside imrathil and heading deeper into the valley. the deeper he ventures — expecting imrathil to not be too far behind — the more aware of permanent game trails formed by deep ruts in the soil he grows. it's a relatively open shrubland with a snaking river cutting through it in the distance. "gott veiði," wardruna murmurs out loud nonchalantly, more to himself and doesn't realize at first he uses northern. "good hunting here." he adds in common, reminding himself to try to make a point to use it more. he knows few wolves know his native tongue in these wilds. temporary shelter was a secondary priority along with finding a territory that offered decent and recent hunting trails. "not much skjól...ah, hmm cover?" perhaps, wardruna considers as he spares a glimpse over his right shoulder looking for imrathil, a neighboring territory might offer something better for shelter.