Stone Circle They speak

The seer stones were weaved through as orange autumn light spilled behind their faces.

The mans silhouette often lost catch of the sun when he moved behind them, only to reappear to move to another.

There were those put to rest here that had no names. Somehow put under these very stones that stood high as the pillars they made their own names out of, but the ones that came before them had lost their own. Once someone's memory. Now visited by strangers who knew not of their ages or stories. They knew nothing about them at all.

Bonnie visited them. 

This wolf was new to Kvarsheim — or so Foxglove thought. She crept up behind him from a distance, wondering what he made of the tall stones at the heart of Kvarsheim's territory. They scared her, just a little.

He didn't seem frightened though. Fox settled into a sit, watching him as he surveyed the stones. For now her nerves were too frayed to announce herself; she couldn't seem to find her voice. So she only watched.

"Looking for someone?"

There was a girl. Quiet and golden, and reminded him of a certain someone who had crossed his path some time ago. 
But that was some time ago, and time was now. 

Wrapping around a stone, flank to the cold rock of Gunnar's standing grave, staring with a dipped head and downed ears. He wasn't very good with kids. She'd probably learn herself that he wasn't much better than one too.