The Tangle Hands to your hymnals, hell's at the door

The woman responded with a single word at first, a name that was fitting for her. It was not of his language and so when he committed it to memory Kigipigak tied it to the term he had used for her; she became Rosalyn Aumarak to him. She smelled strongly of the seaside and that aided in Kigipigak's easing nerves.

He could not see the humor in her offer to help but there was the tone of a joke, and so he smirked with a vague and awkward mirth; the kind of expression one holds when they are not in on a joke.

My kin are settling nearby. I had hoped to explore before the reunion and I have gotten lost. Kigipigak explained.

You are from the sea? My people grew up on the icefields far north of here. It is a way of life I miss. A pause as he thinks of this, drifting and nostalgic, before chuckling to himself and focusing on the present again. My kin now form a tribe upon the mountains, where the ravens dance. As if that would clarify anything. Perhaps she knew of the Watch and could direct him towards it?