Stone Circle Bein veiði

This is the territory inside he is at :)

Leynille

(Secret Creek)
A river that creeps through the aforementioned forest. The water levels fluctuate seasonally. Small fish can be found in the shaded areas most days, with larger fish appearing rarely. It is a relaxing spot to fish or to swim, as the water is cool and lazy with its flow.

Gunnar moved swiftly through the pack lands, his mind on far reaching things. There was much to be done. Sanja was gone, and though it hurt. He had to bring everything together. He needed to find the children, and maybe even the queen herself.

But for now, it was time to build some caches. He stepped near the small creek that flowed through their pack lands. He wanted to do some fishing, perhaps calm his mind. He was old, and couldn't stay in the cold long, but it would be alright for a moment or two.

He stepped near the edge, pushing down hard and then jumping on some thinner patches of ice. He winced as it jarred his footpaws at first, but finally, he was able to step into the water and watch for the shadows beneath the edges.

Is it okay if we set this before the thread with Riverclan wolves? I figure they should meet before that!

She stayed by the creek, when she could find the clarity to still her wandering feet. This was where Bjarna had brought her first, where they had created that beautiful memory of the day she became part of Kvarsheim. She was sure about that now, thanks to Lestan. She had joined this pack, and she meant to see it through.
That didn't mean any of it was easy, though. The thought of meeting her packmates still felt overwhelming. So when she found someone, she didn't let herself think about it. She walked right up to the man who stood in the creek, though she recognized that he was fishing and had the presence of mind to stay quiet. Her eyes fixed on his legs. For some reason all she could think for a moment was that he had really big legs. She wondered what those legs would look like on herself, and had to stifle a giggle. Oh Mother, she was being weird again.
She disguised her almost-laugh as a faint cough. Hi, She managed after a moment, her voice painfully small and shy. He was old, older even than her parents, and scarred too. And surely he spoke as Bjarna did. How would she make herself understood?
That question left her at a loss, and she could find no more words to add.

Absolutely :)

Gunnar had seen new ones come and go, but thus far they seemed to have more staying than going. Which was good for Kvarsheim, especially now that Sanja was missing. He hoped wherever she was, she was merely trying to find herself.

He was thrown from his thoughts by a girl a little older than his Bjarna


He met her gaze with warm grey eyes and smiled. The mask of his face, showing brightly. SHe was a light colored thing, small and thin.

Hello there young one. How can I help you today? His common language impeccable as his Icelandic.

Oh! He spoke! The thought inspired guilt as soon as it had fully formed; Bjarna spoke too, of course, but it wasn't the same. You — we speak the same language! It felt awkward putting it that way, especially since she had only just learned from Lestan that she'd been phrasing it wrong, but there was no other way to say it without being insensitive.
Bjarna brought me here, She added by way of explanation. But he'd asked a question, hadn't he? He'd even smiled at her. That made her heart flutter a little, as it had with Bjarna. I... I have a lot of questions. Everything is so different here. I didn't even know what a pack was until a few days ago. I'm still not sure I understand it. We're supposed to stay here, right? Is it bad if we leave? She didn't know if she could cope with that kind of rule. But she would wait for his answer. Maybe it was all more reasonable than it seemed right now.

A soft chuckle rolled from his throat at her words, and her surprise.

That I Do. I'm what you call a bilingual wolf. I speak two languages, am learning some of the wolf Inkerie's Norwegian too.

Most wolves found it interesting that he spoke two languages, and he hid it at first in some cases. Not that he was ashamed, but rather it didn't do well to share all your secrets with the world right away.

Bjarna is a good girl.

He listened to her questions with a knit in his brow. Working through what she was asking and the answers he could offer.

You don't need to stay no, but you don't bring other wolves past the territory line and when out and about you don't cross other territory lines. You can smell them.

Her eyes went wide as he chuckled and explained about being bilingual, about learning something called Norwegian. That had to be another language, right? She wondered if her own language had a name too, and what she would name it if she were to choose. Jimothy, probably. It seemed fitting.
She was about to ask about the names of other languages, but then he mentioned Bjarna, and her expression went soft and warm. Bjarna is great, The girl agreed, so distracted by thoughts of the pale girl that she failed to notice his expression at first. She helped me...
But then she noticed he was frowning, and her words trailed off. Had she said something wrong? He'd seemed so kind, like Bjarna and Lestan, it felt safe to ask him things like this — but maybe she was mistaken.
Or maybe not. His voice was still kind when he spoke again; he almost reminded her of her father, before the incident. And he was thorough in his explanations; he put things into words that she had suspected, but hadn't truly known.
Oh. Thank you for explaining. So... what am I supposed to do here? To be useful? I was a raindancer back home, but I don't think that would be helpful here. Not with all this weird cold water around... She scuffed at the snow with a paw, looking bemused. I was going to be a healer, but I... I don't think I can do that anymore.

Gunnar had nothing really to say more on the language. If the girl had specific questions he could answer them, but the simple fact was. He was born to it. had learned it upon his birth and ever after.

Hunt, fill caches, border patrol, help out the others, you can even watch the babes if they should need it. There are all sorts of jobs. Perhaps not rain dancer, but you could certainly study the weather patterns and learn to determine waht is coming. Why can't you be a healer?

He listed a lot of things, some of them completely foreign to her. Most of it was straightforward despite that, and she began to put together a real image of pack life for the first time. It seemed almost like building a garden, but one that was meant to last forever. They had to work to keep the pack healthy and safe.
Then he asked why she couldn't be a healer. She grimaced slightly, regretting that she'd mentioned it at all. I don't deal with stressful situations very well anymore, She admitted. She wasn't sure how to explain beyond that. And you have to be levelheaded to be a healer. You have to be able to handle it, when they're bleeding and screaming and you're the only one who can stop it and - and I can't.
Not anymore. What's a cache? She asked, to distract herself.

Had she explained to him her metaphor, for the pack and gardens. He would have liked it. It was as true as it could be. It really was like that. He wished to keep this garden of wolves safe, though he knew. He was getting older. He hoped he could just teach those below him, like Bjarna how to lead and be safe.

there is no harm in that. SOmething else may strike your fancy.

He nodded at her next question, making a soft hmm sound. Where there are two types. meat and herbs. A herbs cache is where we put any medicinal herbs we have and meat caches are where we keep meat to feed us throughout the winter. It's usually a hold in a ground. Sometimes in cold caves, but i don't recommend the 2nd as bears tend to like those ones.

He didn't seem put off or disappointed by her admission. In fact, it seemed like he took it much the way Lestan had taken everything about her; he took it as normal. And maybe something else would catch her interest. Lestan had suggested being a rogue, and she'd jokingly followed up on that, but she didn't really think she could do that. Or could she? Did she know herself well enough to tell?
Hunting was something she could do, though, and gathering herbs too. It seemed too cold for the latter, but Lestan had implied that this wouldn't last forever, so maybe one day she would be able to help with that. For now, filling caches seemed doable enough. As long as she could avoid bears.
That makes sense, She said, thinking of how she'd found the dark wolf in Riverclan hunched over a stony crevice that smelled of herbs. I can help with caches. Thank you for telling me all of this... and um... do you think you could teach me the language Bjarna speaks? More than anything, she wanted to be able to have a conversation with the pale girl. She wanted to learn their language, as Lestan had suggested, and this man seemed like a perfect candidate for a teacher.

Gunnar had learned much too late, that it was okay to not know what you wanted to do with your life. Therefore, he kept himself to a different standard than most. He didn't judge anyone, unless they were an absolute bastard. Then well, all bets were off, truthfully. But he did try to be as understanding about everyone as he could.

Gunnar smiled at her. I would love too. Perhaps you can help Bjarna learn English as I teach you Icelandic?

He didn't say the thoughts that always stirred his thoughts lately. That he wouldn't be here much longer. His body was giving out, even if his mind wasn't yet. This much he knew and it frightened him. More for those he'd leave behind than himself.

We could fade here or continue with the lesson?

He would love to? She wondered if he meant that, truly, or if he was only saying it the way people say things when they're trying to be kind. Then she decided that it didn't matter. If he was only being kind, then at least he cared enough to try to be kind to her.
Icelandic. It was called Icelandic; she would have to remember that. And he had a task for her, too — and she truly meant it when she said, Oh, I would love to teach Bjarna! She gleaned quickly enough from the context that English was what they spoke now. It couldn't be anything else, mainly because she didn't know anything else. Can we start now?

I'm fine with a fade, and it can be assumed he taught her basic greetings, perhaps prey animal names.

Gunnar was a kind wolf. It wasn't often that many were like him, but he had been raised by a selfless woman. Thus his heart was much like hers. Even if he was a viking too. And he loved teaching the language of the man who raised him for his younger years. Whom he still missed. It felt like an honor to be able to pass on what he had been taught by a man who hadn't needed to take care of him and his siblings, but he had anyway. Because he loved their mother.

I'm sure Bjarna would love to learn from you too and yes we can.

He would spend as much time as she needed on learning new greetings. How to say hello, how are you and then the names of prey animals. They would make a day for another lesson at another time.

Sounds good <3 we should have another thread sometime!

Her excitement showed in the little dance she did with her forepaws, and the waving of her tail. She had always loved to learn new things, and always felt content when she set about unraveling another mystery. So many things had seemed impossible to her only a short time ago, and now her reality was blooming in colors she'd never imagined.
By the time she parted ways with Gunnar, she felt like anything was possible.