Duskfire Glacier quoth the raven, “nevermore”

@Hüg

It was June and the summer was beginning to become stifling. Hüginn and Müninn, dextrous and seasoned as they were, often found their relentless travels cut short during the hottest hours of high noon. Many an oppressive afternoon were spent ‘neath the spreading, low-lying branches of the northern evergreens; but the old spring rains had soaked the ground thoroughly, and just so, the ravens could escape the sun but they could not escape the season's humectation. 

The temperature rose and so did Muninn’s temper; she became easily frustrated and snappish over foolish things, and she recognized this but did not have the ability to stop it — she had never wanted to, of course, so she did not mourn this inability. The woman was untouched by the fingers of guilt and did not know how to [or simply could not] procure that emotion from within her. Hers was a feigned guilt; a face which she had mastered long ago and used well to their advantage, but a life without recoil [and with Hüginn’s steadfast sponsorship and support], her curious vivacity had been allowed to blossom entirely unfettered.

“Ah,”

As she crested a hill, Müninn let out a satisfied sigh. In front of them, in the far distance, there was an expanse of ice and rock, nestled between several peaks and spilling into the moraine below. It seemed smaller than the description they had been told. Müninn cut her silvered gaze to see the landmark more clearly, straining her neck forward as if the extra one of two inches could significantly cleared her vision. She had run ahead to scout, so the woman called out to the moving, shadowed statue to her rear. “See? Her pointed ears perched high on her crown.

“There’s the glacier — just like he said.”

They had come from the north at the behest of the man they had met roadside, Bane. Their road had been direct, and their combined directional capabilities kept them moving at a fast clip — but the day was becoming later, and the sun stronger, and in front of them laid the answer to their impending exhaustion. “Guess we’re going the right way, huh?” she said smugly, looking o’r her shoulder towards her stalwart twin. “Let’s check it out.” Hüginn was not one to speak much, so Müninn made sure to fill the silences — but her twin did not need to speak for her to know what he was thinking. They were born together, they would live together, and eventually, they would die together... of this, she was certain. 

Ceres was pleased to learn as she crossed the wide taiga that she was yet as nimble and lively as a wolf early in their prime. Having lived in one place with limited travel for a handful of years with her mate and offspring, she'd have thought her endurance would fail and her energy would flag on long trips. Instead, her vitality laid dormant in her breast and sprang to life at the first hint of a challenge. A faint grin pulled at her cracked lips as she surged up a hill, drinking deep of the taiga air, which was crisp even in the warmth of summer.

The sun was falling low in the sky, teasing shades of pink and cream from the western horizon. The she-wolf paused to appreciate her surroundings, flipping her rounded ears forward as she looked up. From her vantage point, Ceres noted the glacier and mountain towering in the near distance, and though she could not see it, she could smell the salt of the sea. She inhaled and held her breath a beat, appreciating the coastal tang in her nose. Ceres so wished she could be like the sea: an unstoppable force, ever changing and adapting.

Age kept her rooted in practicality, even still, but she wished nonetheless. She pressed onward, undaunted by the glacier looming ahead. She was much too eager to see the world beyond it. As a girl she'd wanted to experience the entire world. That desire stayed with her even now, driving her forward until she came upon the intertwined trails of two wolves. She made the decision then and there to shed timidity and pursue them in hopes they could point her in the direction of others.

It was some time before Ceres spotted them, but when she did, the small Arctic wolf picked her pace up into a rolling canter and called out a breathy, "Excuse me!"

Müninn was as surprised to hear the voice of another as she would have been if she had seen a polar bear this far south. This place had seemed quite remote — neither she nor her twin had scented any others for miles — and the intrusion immediately irked her. The banshee’s hackles gaze rise and her silverspun gaze tore across the landscape, finding not a polar bear but a small white woman cantering out from the woods. Müninn was not impressed with such a brazen intrusion. The older woman was much too close to them; much too close to Hüginn

“Excuse you?”  The ghost questioned incredulously, spinning on her heels to greet the stranger with a saccharine-stained smile. A slinking step was taken, pushing past the hulking form of her stalwart brother; though her movements were foreward, her demeanor did not speak of her displeasure — Müninn was not one to show her hand so easily. She drew even more forward, the hint of a laugh tingling upon her lips. “Have you done something…. excuse-worthy?”

Ceres' rapid steps faltered as the female turned back toward her with a queerly cheery smile, but as the old lady was generally a trusting sort, she smiled broadly in return. "Oh, no, dear," she said warmly, "I only meant to get your attention." Her gaze slid sidelong to the male of their team, and she extended her smile to him before looking back to the woman herself. She had pale fur, much like Ceres herself. For some reason that put her more at ease.

"I'm looking for packs in the area," she explained, and gestured with her muzzle toward the distant glacier and what lay beyond. "I was just wondering if you knew where the nearest pack was?"

Huginn had no opinion of the oppressive summer temperatures.  While the heat makes his sister touchier than usual, it merely drained the brother-raven, leaving him sluggish and panting— but it did not change his demeanor in the slightest. He is always the same, always the same, always the same. And it is this sameness that Muninn has come to rely on; a sameness that has made him the unshakeable executioner to his twin’s erratic targeting. For you see, Huginn held no opinions because his sister carried them all herself. It was how it had always been. How things always would be.

The shadow hovered behind her, quiet besides the soft rumbles that jarred his throat as a response whenever she spoke. He had found long ago that being too silent often led to her frustration. And when sweet, insane Muninn was upset, she lashed out. He had been touched by her lightning on almost every inch of his body. Most of the scars were gone or invisible, but he carried trophies of her everywhere he went— wielding his body like a shrine dedicated to just her.

His ears pressed forward as they(she) paused to speculate on their journey’s progress. He was so indifferent to her decision to follow the would-be-king, that he often forgot that it was what they were doing. This brief foray with the landscape brought them a visitor, and Huginn noticed the aging wolf’s approach the moment before she called out to them. He glanced at Muninn, intimately aware of what was likely to happen next, and he watched her transform like the serpentous chameleon she was.

He turned his body to face their conversation, but made no move or expression to otherwise indicate that he was engaged. It was easy enough to label him a simpleton with the way he presented himself, though pity to the wolf who would think to treat him as such. They would find rather quickly that the hangman chose his actions, rather than being unable to perform them. The social woman’s smile to him was met with a slow blink, as if he had not understood the sentiment.

retagging just because i’ve been a lame-o recently, and i really want this to continue! 
@Ceres @Hüg

Müninn continued to slink towards the similarly pelted women, who was notably older than most in the area — and the banshee did not know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. A wolf must be hearty to make it far in life; so many were lost so young — and, many times, Müninn wondered if her reckless style of living would render her no better than the lot of ‘em. Life was so fragile, so easily lost, so easily taken — but not for her, not while Hüginn was near. This, too, she did not know was a good thing or a bad one. 

The line between good and bad was often obscured for Müninn.

Müninn obscured her features in to an expression that resembled thinking — flitting through her memories to recall any pack coexisting nearby — but, truthfully, her mind was doing no such thing. Instead she looked back at Hüginn, the hulking shadow that stood back, silently and strong — let her gaze drift over his chiseled form, her tongue flick out from between her lips to draw along the edge of her muzzle, and her mind thought the same thing as a million times before: mine.  In a voice as sweet as sugar, she chirped to him.

“Have we seen anybody, brother?”

Without waiting for an answer — an answer she knew would never come —  Müninn continued. She tossed her head, shook her pale, feathered mane and allowed her attentions to resettle upon the aging woman before her. It had been some time since they had seen another, truthfully; and when the ravens were alone for too often, for too long, she had a tendency to become a bit snippy. “You’re right…. we haven’t seen anyone for milesss...” the end of her sentence slithered from her lips, sibilant and soft and took several seconds to fade. Her pale, silvermoon eyes flashed and danced.

“Are you looking for… company?”