Duskfire Glacier behind closed doors

for @Gjalla !

the days were drawn long and slow. in bated breaths did the folk of darukaal await the march toward saatsine. they await a war cry that would change the course of their legacy. a burning anticipation to fell those who'd dare lay a fang upon the wife of Blackfell. a woman strong in her own right—a woman who'd managed to survive. 

perhaps that was a greater strength than violence and muscle. either way, the wildling woman felt both a burgeoning respect and a sense of loss. she did not know the woman personally, but a wife of her old friend Blackfell was a friend of hers.

and in darukaal, everyone was bloodkin. and so a sister is found in Gjalla. the memory of her stumbling into Blackfell's arms and Darukaal's borders was fresh. scalding to the mind as the image of her neck torn by fang was an image seared. not to be forgotten, and certainly not to be forgiven. 

they would fell the bastard who'd harmed her. they would retrieve his head and bathe the earth in his viscera. 

but for now, Svalla would see to her. a gift in her grasp—an arctic fox's pelt, along with a fresh carcass of a caribou's calf. it wouldn't heal her, but Svalla hoped it would build a bridge between them. all of the testosterone was overwhelming after all, and being able to find a friend in another woman was a luxury the wildling didn't know she ached for. 

she finds the stormy woman within the haven of she and Blackfell's den. with light steps does she cross the threshold, eyes of ice searching for the woman. hoping wounds have healed enough for her to speak, or perhaps for her to join Svalla on a short walk.