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

In time he would come to know her home as Rusalka, where his not-yet-friend Njord lives; for now the place remained obscure to him, although she shared a bearing and Kigipigak made mental notes as he followed her.

There was a lost quality about the woman despite her knowledge of this tangle; Kigipigak wondered if it was merely age and circumstance that brought that out of her. The myriad of scars told him she had seen much, that perhaps this place was no more a maze to her than any other forest. He did not ask why her expression remained so resolutely sullen. She aided him, that was enough.

She beckoned one way or another, and Kigipigak moved to follow. It was not so hard to navigate this place when accompanied. Thank you, Kigipigak called to her as they hiked, —if I may ask... What were you looking for? You live at the seaside and yet you are here instead. Perhaps this forest held a special place for the aumarak people.