Deepwood Weald in my world,

dull golden fur parted through the cold mist. she held still, watched as the man's figure revealed itself to her. soon, her eyes met his, and she stared deep as he spoke — the same rugged accent of her people. perhaps the norns hadn't abandoned her entirely. whatever trickster wisp that hid within the mist retreated, and yngvi was left only with the viking named sólhárr

yngvi eklund. spirit daughter of urðr.. she bowed her head, pinned by his eyes. ..once of miofell, before the norns punished my town for their hubris.
or perhaps she felt the eyes of her mother, watching as her daughter spoke ill of the town she failed.
i haven't encountered danger for i have not strayed from the path i'd been given.. finally, the girl's violet eyes lift from the dirt to the man.
now i believe it was to bring me here.. sir. each word came breathless, anxious to be heard and believed. to your forneskja.