Barrow Fields i hated how people shouted at me for looking different.

If she sought to prod and poke fun at his stilted use of vernacular, the joke was lost on him, instead a crooning note of pleasure rattling his chest as he looked upon her. In this, she reminded him of the women back up North, those who were unafraid to provide for their pack and pour the same blood, sweat, and tears into their efforts as any male did. It was a quality he appreciated, though not quite as much as he appreciated the snack. Not right now, at least.

Tongue of the North, He supplied, though he knew there were many. Icelandic. He missed speaking in his first and second languages, both far easier than that of the wolves here. Your tongue? Another bite broken away and swallowed. Is it from these Wilds? These Wilds that were so vast and bountiful, providing much in the way of food and companionship, though said wolves were far more tame than he and his brother seemed to be when compared side-by-side.