Dawnlark Plains I can't hear it now

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ᚦ — dawn's first light fled when he had engaged in trivial war with the woman of ice. now, he wore blooded wound upon the scruff of his neck where her teeth had laid claim to him.
a fierce shieldmaiden. he carried the memory of her with him, now into the plains he walked once more. pelt of night and spilled blood shifting with the rummage of wind, taking his scent further inland. it was her he looked for now, and found a scent that carried the same corvid grit as hers.
but it is not her he finds; but a man of similar great stature, coated in a pelt of charcoal, illuminated with neck plumage of gold. draugr stands several feet away now; squaring shoulders, chuffing deeply with grizzled northern voice to the man of the taiga.
northern blood across from northern blood. sandstone eyes probing now to gauge his resolve. silently demanding to know who he was, and why he smelled so faintly of the winter maiden draugr so manfully desired. was she wed already? a flash of envy in his gaze then, unseen from so far away.
he does not know yet that it is a familial scent and not the bond of lovers.