Ravensblood Forest three days out of the month

Maybe someone from Hljodrfell? (Quietly eyes @Rusalka...)

The sun had yet to breach the low-hanging clouds that dragged cotton-like across the horizon, yet the temperature along the edge of the world was climbing. There had been some wind in the night, which initially had soothed the man to sleep, however by morning the air was still, humid, and heavy. He would have overslept had the screeching of gulls not penetrated his sleep.
Feeling an uncomfortable warmth and a weight upon him, Willow roused from his makeshift camp and carried on his way up the beach. This transitioned from grit-and-gravel to the typical rocky wilderness as he clambored towards the mountains. This is where we find him now: seeking refuge among the shadows of a forest, which might end up being the worst decision he'd ever made. As alluring as those shadows were to him, they trapped the heat of the morning in a way Willow had not expected.
How could it be so hot, but so early? Putting aside the fact that it was the height of summertime, Willow could not recall a moment previously in his life that he felt this agitated by the state of his surroundings. It felt like he was covered in hundreds of ants all crawling across his skin, pinching at him, making him itchy and uncomfortable — and that feeling was rare enough that he couldn't recognize it for what it was.

tag for reference. <3

rare that rusalka finds himself venturing outside the claim of hljodrfell; though with the high priestess' continued absence, his presence guarding her sacrosanct temple isn't quite as needed.

instead, he roams. bathing in the warming saltwater of the sea so he smells of musk and seasalt.

he roams to track prey, calculating what he could take down by himself and take to @Solveig, growing more and more aware of the roundness of her flanks and the promise(s) he had made.

it is tracking this: a lone doe and young, bumbling fawn that he comes across the scent of another. it is not necessarily close to the borders of the keep, but it ... and perhaps something else, draws him to the stranger all the same.

a low chuff leaves his lips: an unspoken question and alert to his presence wrapped into one.

There came a soft, low sound that didn't fit among the surrounding sounds of wilderness, and Willow looked up and around in time to see a heavy-set stranger lingering nearby. They looked young and strong; a hardy, masculine creature that Willow felt immediately jealous of; but also, in a strange way, enamored by.
A shyness overcame Willow indicative of a different age. He felt suddenly so inadequate, and small, like he was a cub staring up at the majesty that was Rannoch, his father.
H-hello, crackled his voice, effeminate, oddly juvenile.

rusalka is greeted with a stuttering hello that the cairn is quick to assume is timid, even if it isn't necessarily true.

hello. comes his gruff greeting in response; a parrot.

he is not a terribly social creature by nature and it shows achingly when he is away from wolves he knows ... or those he believes he knows, even if it is not well.

a twitch of his ears, a soft neutral wave of his tail.

what brings you this way, stranger?