Ravensblood Forest from silence rose a symphony

Ravenseer was an apt title for the pallid canine; Solpallur backed this declaration with a nod. Protecting him and his little one seemed a fair trade to have them come along, if nothing else than a tribute to nature itself. Kin and kith before oneself—he and Stjornuati had operated this way for as long as he could remember, and it was a duty extended to those who came and went from their journey.

They all had a hringja to answer to and the beckoning chatter of the ravens did not sway him against the idea in spite of himself. “Já,” he rejoined, as though the terseness of the word would do anything at all to sway the Ravenseer. “Segðu honum að koma og hlaupa með okkur,” he said to Stjornuati, “kannski getur hann kennt okkur til að temja þessar óbyggðir.”

They had strayed from their path, Solpallur moreso than Stjornuati, but the hrafn did not trust lightly. Nor did the Stormskýli pair either, but even at their most basal nature, they held onto the faint reverence for the world around them. The path was never lost, however misguided and disused.