Hushed Willows álfardómstólinn

Another joined them as Stjornuati echoed her words. They really were just here to see what was up with their neighbours. After a while, Val had assumed that the neighbouring pack would come to them to scout out why they had taken up residence so close. However, it was a comfortable situation as far as packs were concerned given the geography alone. The ravine created a very healthy separation between the two in such a way that Val had assumed this was why they hadn't come.
The young, blue-eyed male, though. He was as Kigipigak: delicious and youthful, ready for the picking.
The two of them still seemed on alert, and Valmúa tried to find a way in. They seemed like good people. They were not offensive or nasty or rude. They were scouting out the situation, the same as she and her brother. So, Val guessed at what had happened, and she took the lead once more.
Yes, she continued after her brother and the ink-blotted one. I am Valmúa. He is Stjornuati, she said, continuing on. My family, we want good. Uh, friður, peace. This place. What do you call it? The question was honest, true. Though it was equally true that Val would readily have taken over this little snippet if any of it had suited had, that was not what they were here for.
Moreover, she wanted to know more of this delicious little man.