Qeya River outstretched arm, and upturned hand

a familiar and common silence settles over them as they presumably each watch the ice flow down the river. presumably, because while wardruna watches the ice float and bob and choke it's way down the river his focus is not on imrathil — a personal if not subtle sign of trust that not many ever have the privilege of knowing from him. as much as wardruna fears abandonment he also fears affection, feeling affection. he desires little more than to choke affection out of existence within himself ...it chokes him in defiance instead.

wardruna is briefly alarmed at the quiet question that comes from his companion as it draws him from the darkened path of his thoughts. and it takes the northener a few seconds to understand that imrathil is asking about jötunn spine. "it is cold almost all seasons," wardruna begins after a few seconds longer, inhaling and let it out in a soft albeit heavy sigh. "the seers say that the spine — a ring of small ah, ...moun...mountains that protect the pack — was formed by a jötunn pup that got lost and died. over time his bones became the mountains, his life blood became the river and his skin ah...," he pauses grappling for the word 'nourish' but when it does not come to him settles for, "gave life to the forest." probably wasn't the best story to tell children but the seers were not known for candy-coating their beliefs from the pups of the spine. "the élivágar sea is made of black sand and icy waters. not good to swim in but good for hunting big water prey." especially if one was looking for whales and walruses.

"there is always war. in the pack and out of it. we fight to to ah, make our claimed lands bigger. anyone can fight to be leader. you fight to the death," wardruna sojourns here in his telling of his homeland. it is still sore, still the source of all his rage at the world. "and if you lose and do not die they do not see you as chosen by the gods. to them you are cursed. they ban...ish — banish you. and your pups and your pup's pups." he finishes more bitterly than he means to. he is surprised ( perhaps pleasantly so, strangely ) that he manages to tell it relatively well in the common tongue despite the usual stumbles here and there. wardruna takes a heavy breath and finishes softly, "it is a cruel and harsh place." and he misses it terribly.