Ravensblood Forest from silence rose a symphony

Akai, The Nordic wolf repeated, the name managing to roll off his tongue in a fashion much less clumsy than the stilted tongue of these lands did. Akai í Hrafnsjáandi. A glance to his brother was made, the statement made to catch him up on what Stjornuati thought of the man. The facet of a man respected was captured in that name, a tradition they had carried with them from Stormskýli.

Já. Þetta er Solpallur. This one's bróðir.

Introductions made, the pale creature of the north sank into thought for a moment, allowing his companion to make whatever conversation he felt like (probably none) before his tongue wagged again, speaking orð hjartans. You and sá litli, little one, join this one. And Solpallur, by default. We will protect. The last word was said fiercely, with a conviction that speared through the unknown and offered a paw to the other man.

As if they approved this idea, the ravens murmured and twittered amongst themselves, hopping around the carcass and the wolves that stood near.