Dragoncrest Cliffs oathkeeper

@Kierkegaard!

Nothing remained.

The Northmaiden could swear that the Gods themselves set upon the land with such a fury that boiled the trees, and set the Wilds alight with cleansing flame. A great swath had been cut from the world, leaving this place hollow, and abandoned. A numbness that twined with her toes, and clambered up her legs to settle uncertainly in her gut. No one would accept the Sterkrson in this dire time; the woman who passed through to Helheimr. But she could not return to Broddr's Rise, not with the dogs of the traitorous priest chained at the gate. She felt trapped, and it didn't sit well with the feral beast that dwelled within.

Solveig set her ears back flat against her dome and cast a look out towards the distant waters. She recalled Shadow, the dreamer turned King, and felt a dull sense of longing for the ironcast wolf. "How queer," she muttered, unfamiliar with such a distinct, definiable regret, for the she-wolf rarely felt remorse towards anything. She narrows her eyes and turns away from the ocean. If there was food to be had, it would be near the only source of life left in this land: the sea.