Raven's Watch tender, the body

He spied Synin from an outcropping where the shadows fell across him and felt an icy sensation seize him. The wind now had a bite that did not relent and the snows had come, but it wasn’t that which plunged him deep into his recollection. He had seen many who were cloaked just as darkly as he was, but few carried such a deep scarring to their face. It was something he would always remember of Synin, if there were few other things that he chose to recall.

Solpallur descended far quicker than he should have been able to, but the stones were becoming familiar beneath his feet. He stayed close to them now, in part due to the oncoming winter and in part to survey what all amassed below him. He saw less of Stjornuati though they conferred daily; his brother seemed to work at a feverish pace with proper purpose behind him.

But Solpallur still had his doubts—the suneater spent his time surveying, communing with stars, stones, and the little bones the ravens gave him alike. He searched for certainty where he lacked it and though he had found some, it was hardly enough purchase to hand him resolve. It mattered not, at least for now, and he reached the even ground to curtail the distance between himself and an old companion and his raven.

“Synin,” he rumbled, reaching the dark wolf. “It has been far too long, bróðir.”