Nova Peak and when the gods summon

the bitter, nipping cold did not faze the wildling woman as she trapezed across the landscape. the clock was ticking, time was wasting away—the sun would rise and war would follow. 

a war that they must win. if not for darukaal's claim, for gjalla. the injured woman the white sparrow had to leave behind in order to obey faust's plead. worry had no place in her heart though; gjalla was a strong woman. 

she would stare death in the eyes and evade it. she must. 

@Lorcan's scent was faint, but it was all she needed. blazing a path after it. eager, determined. she would not call for him—she could not afford to alert the same winsook wolves that had interrupted her again. 

she would not allow it to happen this time. the stakes were higher. this was not about pleasure. it was for the survival of the north. for the death of saatsine. 

his shadowed figure found cloaked by the shadows of the night. svalla stood stall, sides heaving from exertion. "you," she exhaled, voice brokering no arguments. "will fight for darukaal. there is war coming. we need strength. your leaders turn us away as cowards. will you follow their path?"