Duskfire Glacier and down goes the hatchet on the chopping block 'cus i love you like a mountain

the snow shifts and crunches under each step gleipnir takes; this frigid cold, heavy snow and harsh cut stone is comforting. it reminds him of the cove, it settles him to know that he can find places of home in these foreign lands. the northerner's steps are slower than that of sakhmet's but he trails faithfully behind her all the same, keeping a glacial eye fixed on her up ahead. busy; sorting out scents: theirs and those of small woodland creatures that inhabit this place, trying to figure what is fresh and what is stale he does not pay attention to the heavens.

gleipnir!

his name arose in an airy breath from sakhmet and the berserker's focus is broken as glacial gaze lifts from a waddling groundhog trail cutting thru the snow to his ruddy companion. he steps forth, closing the distance between them, gaze studying her though he is calmed by the lack of tension in her body. after a moment he follows her own gaze, noting the green lights as they dance upon her face and lifts his own gaze heavenward.

norðrljós, gleipnir murmurs in a low, awed murmur. he has heard stories of the northern lights but has never before seen them with his own eyes.