Horizon Ridge if i had a voice i would sing

Gyda had parted with Stavanger Bay though it had been harder than she had once known it to be. The territory was desolate and the forest of Sentinels to it's western border had been claimed. The audacity that a pack had claimed a territory right on the doorstep of her father's legacy did not settle well within the territorial Viking Queen's mind but she attempted to put her discontent to rest. Stavanger Bay had long since been gone and while, technically, she could not blame them it did not mean she had to like it. Ragnar would not have stood for it ...but if Ragnar had lived still the pack would not have gone anywhere near the Northman's land — unless they had a certain death wish. If, one day, she decided to reclaim the Bay, to begin anew the pack that was her father's legacy their presence would create complications. Mostly from Gyda herself. She might have looked every bit sweet like honey and docile, as her svelte and small build lend the impression but she was no sheep. She was a Valkyrie and her feminine wiles were that: coquettish charm and beauty. She was every bit as dangerous as Ragnar had been, though this realization had taken the Nordic beauty some time to realize. 

It had not been until she stood over the rapidly cooling body of her uncle Vali, his blood staining her chin and the silver fur of her chest did she come to realize that she was truly a Viking; and the power the realization had given the young drottning was nothing short of intoxicating. It allowed her to adore Freyja in ways she had not before. Freyja was Àtta's goddess in the way that Oðinn had been Ragnar's. A favorite. 

Gyda was not sure what had drawn her to venture through to Horizon Ridge yet she had entered the territory after slumbering the night through in the early grasp of morning. Thick clouds obscured the moon and the myriad of colors the rising sun painted in the skyline and the air was chilled, so frigid that she could see her breath as it rose from her black, leathery nose in tendrils of white steam that writhed and curled before it dissipated. She had been born in this territory, and young when Ragnar had taken siege of the pack and led them away to the safety of Stavanger Bay. It held a slight warmth for her, though the Ridge had not been her home as Stavanger Bay and Odinn's Cove had been. She was not sure where her mother had fled to, presumably after the death of Ragnar. Perhaps the pack had simply... disbanded or perhaps they had relocated. She wished desperately to see Thistle again, to hold her mother and mourn her father's death with someone she knew would understand, but she did not even know where to start and so she settled for wandering, fixating upon the places that Ragnar had been in the hopes (perhaps futile as it might have been) that she would find some sort of clue.

To her lost mother, to her fate in these Wilds; and then there was the deliberate scarring in honor of the Gods. She had desired to do it when she'd been younger, but learning of Ragnar's passing had only strengthened the young viking queen's resolve for it. Her face, too, would bear the markings — though not of Odin. Of Freyja, the queen of the Valkyries. Simply, she needed someone who would be willing to make the wounds.

I'm mostly just trying to figure her out, haha.  Don't mind me.

There are times when Havelock wants to stop and rest but something kept her feet going. The threat of the past sneaking up behind her, the need to constantly keep moving one step ahead of the ghosts that trail behind her.  Little does she know they leave a wreckage behind in her wake.  The four horsemen on her trail, ready to seize her to their bidding.  Quite nights on the door when the wind is still and she’s graced with low tide, she can sometimes hear the hoofbeats on frozen water, closer and closer to finding her.

Her lids are heavy and sure she might not be able to take another step, she plops down.  Her feet praise her and her mind begins to slow.  If she laid down, even for a moment, she;d fall into slumber easily but now is not the time.  Her heart beats to that movement of horses stampeding closer and closer, crying for her demise.

They would find her, eventually, but today would not be that day.  

She’s snapped back out of drifting once a foreign smell creeps into her nasal cavity.  Her legs stiffen to hold herself upright, and she squints against the sun to better see.  She moves from her spot and takes a few steps until she can see the brutish form of another woman.  Havelock isn’t sure what she’s seeing, if she’s seeing another wolf at all, but she’s pulled forward in curiosity.  

Havelock licks are her lips and she chuffs, half greeting, half warning, but all the same yearning to know the woman.

;D Thanks for joining! <3 Also, short post is short but I wanted to get this up quick before dinner. :p

Gyda's thoughts were gone with the wind and she, clinging helplessly to them as they wandered freely. Perhaps it was not wise to lose herself in contemplation, considering that Horizon Ridge had been a free territory for some time and thus meant that she was not alone in wandering it. Yet, the young viking queen could not help herself as she fantasized about what places the wounds would be made upon her face, and what she wished for them to mean. She daydreamed about it as a teenage girl daydreamed about her celebrity crush, doe-eyed and charmed. Dagrun had attempted to talk her out of scarring her face any time she had brought it up, surely — though he had never came right out and said it — it would take away from her beauty as the horrendous scars that marred Ragnar's face had taken away from his physical allure. She had been able to tell that her father had been handsome — she had seen it just fine in the half of his face that remained unblemished. Until he had allowed his eye to be sacrificed which left an ugly, empty eye socket in the place of one of his jewel eyes. 

Her thoughts were interrupted abruptly by a soft chuff that reached out to her through the space between her and the stranger, shattering her daydream to pieces. The sound was a partial greeting and a partial warning and Gyda turned, rather quickly, fixing her own striking Caribbean eyes to look upon the one whom dared to warn her. For a moment, the young queen forgot where she was — that she had returned to Teekon and was not in Odinn's Cove. “Halló,” Gyda broke her previous silence, her accented, native words slipping skillfully off of her tongue. It was close enough to the common tongue greeting that she did not feel the need to offer a translation. Besides, Gyda found herself hoping that she might stumble across a stranger who, too, spoke the language of her people. She missed conversing in it, for when she used it she felt closer to Ragnar if only because it was he that had taught it to her.

shush, that's not short.

She gets the wolf’s attention, her large head sweeping to greet her, and Havelock’s shoulders broaden.  She doesn’t have the energy to withstand any advance but the other doesn’t have to know that.  Her jaws clench, dipping her head once the greeting has been spoken.  Right away she can hear the accent in the one word, one greeting makes it so she wonders if the wolf knows the common tongue at all.  The girl doesn’t let her gaze move, easily resting on the other.

Havelock dips her nose in greeting, taking a few easy steps on sore paws.  If she could rest for a little while, the feeling would return, but until they she walks on phantoms she isn’t sure will make the next step.  “Hello,” she offers in a similar greeting but her own voice is even and smooth, even with the ache her body throbs in reminder.  

<3

There was a slight broaden to the other woman's shoulders, the viking queen saw with a curious tilt of her head. Gyda recognized the gesture as defensive but there was no reason to be such, though of course Gyda didn't outright expect the stranger to know that. Horizon Ridge had been free territory since she'd been a little girl and there was no territorial feelings towards these lands. Gyda did not intend to re-claim the Ridge. Would Stavanger Bay not have neighbors so very close to it Gyda would have attempted to strike her claim upon the lands her father had claimed but she was a woman and liked to believe she had more diplomacy within her than her male counterpart Dagrun held. Ravensblood Forest had once meant something to Ragnar, and so Gyda would try her luck there, eventually. Her assessment of the Teekon and how the storm had changed it wasn't complete yet ...and beyond that she could not claim a territory for just herself.

“I am Gyda Loðbrok, Ragnarsdottir,” Gyda was not sure if the name Ragnar would mean anything to her or not, her father had made some friends but more enemies during his time here. Regardless, she was proud to be his daughter and strove only to be the woman that he would have wanted her to be, be it shield-maiden or queen (or both). “Who are you?” Gyda inquired in a pleasant voice, showing that here they were neutral and equals. Whatever claim she had on Odinn's Cove had no effect in these neutral lands and Gyda was only hostile when she needed to be; she saw no reason to be hostile thus far and so was nothing short of amiable towards the other woman.