Larksong Grotto echoes of the past

no complaints here <3

The delicate hush was broken by a voice-- guttural, blunt. Norse. A sharp, metallic aroma followed in its wake. Yesfir's clouded eyes lifted from the skull, her mouth parted in a flicker of shock. A burly man stepped from the shadows, dark and matted by crimson. The Grotto was a hidden location; known by few, traversed by fewer. The lass did not speak as he approached. She merely sat, wide-eyed, as though perhaps he were addressing the tree behind her. 
But he stopped in front of her. And she leaned heavier against the chilling bark, her pale breath curling over wispy cheeks.
...Move?
Yesfir's expression descended into something darker-- her ears lay flat, like a mother shielding its cub from threat.
But she wasn't finished!
"Nei," She murmured breathily, her gaze averted from the brute's features. "Nei, dróttinn... Ek þarf blessun til veiða!"
His warning went unheeded. The woman was never known for sense-- not when it came to the dead. As frost dared to form at the tip of her coat, she met his look briefly, flashing a fleeting warning: 
Do not come closer.