Raven's Watch palid face of the unchildlike child

Whatever the first had meant to say, it would likely be interrupted by the appearance of the man, his cream and gold fur easily separating him from the shadows of the forest that ringed the Watch. The raven's cry overhead only punctuated his arrival, close enough to scent the sisters, to hear the tongue of one of the northern tribes. Instantly, his curiosity piqued, a glance cast to the raven that settled in a tree nearby; was the hringja working with them even now, he wondered?

The two of you have traveled far, He observed, posture one that bespoke no violence of vehemence. Each looked bedreaggled, exhausted, and Stjornuati knew that his statement would hold true. There was a look to any loner that could be picked out, one where the furs lacked the plush warmth, where the skeleton protruded from beneath the skin like a monster reaching from the depths. He was curious of their origins, and of their intentions, signalling that he awaited an answer by ears pitched forward and dark eyes flickering between the two.