Stone Circle here comes a candle

Svangur... the child said! It was a murmur, like her own voice, and a poor attempt at best, but Sanja understood. There came elation in hearing this familiar sound (even butchered by the child's learning voice); and she kissed the babe's head again.

Já! Sanja encouraged. Svangur. borða, borða!
Her voice was low, loud enough to carry to the child with further encouragement. She nosed the heavier pieces of venison that had piled in the dirt, and feigned eating, showing them what to do. Oh, how weak they were! How thin!

borða, bjarnarungi... Sanja gave the odd wolf cub a nickname, and tucked her close, laying her own chin across the crown of the child's head for a moment. A tender hug.