Duskfire Glacier behind closed doors

that works for me!!

The attack had not dimmed the stormy woman. It had not softened her—something the wildling could respect with a subtle tilt of her chin. If anything, it seemed to have set her on the edge. And perhaps, it made her yearn to spill the blood of the bastard who'd nearly taken her life. 

Svalla hoped so. What was a better image than a woman getting her revenge against a man who'd taken so much? It was in their nature to take and take until they were either full or bored. It is only right for it to be the nature of a woman to want to take it back. 

Her yearn for Saatsine to bleed would be cast aside for now, and the war would not be mentioned. This was a time for healing, not for vengeance. Even that Svalla understood. Her smirk is fleeting and small. "You seem restless." Rightfully so. Svalla would have gone stir-crazy by now, forced to waste away precious time on bed rest. Perhaps if she were a better, gentler woman, she might insist Gjalla rest. 

She doesn't, as she knows Gjalla won't. 

Perhaps what she needs is a break. An escape. 

"For you." She reassured her. Not a gift born out of pity, but one out of seeking connection. Tentatively, but it was an effort nevertheless. With a motion toward the mouth of the cavern, she offers; "Fresh air would do wonders, and you're going to pace yourself to death. Walk with me?"