Raven's Watch calm before the torrent comes

A solitary raven called from a nearby roost in the minutes that passed, but Solpallur did not hear it the way he should have. They made plenty of sounds, their ruckus commonplace. It was a different call that fell on deaf ears, one that would have told him that Stjornuati made his way up the stony path to him had he not been so entranced with the night sky.

It held memories for him that were drawn out by the taste of bitter cold air, though so far it hadn’t been cold enough to suit him. Not cold enough to frost his back as he stayed stock-still and glossy-eyed, watching the glittering night sky with its low hanging moon well behind him. The sky here was not quite the same as he recalled it in the deep parts of the north. Their travels had been long.

And now, what had become a temporary reprieve along their travels had turn to something more concrete.

The chuff drew him out of any sort of knowledge he could have gleaned from memories etched across that sky, his head turning to receive sight and awareness of the present as Stjornuati pressed against him. He rumbled a loose greeting, not quite as annoyed as it sounded. The nights were long, he could read and scry all he wanted to later, if the clouds did not move in. It was his brother he attended to instead, picking up on the stressors that lined his pointed face.

“Þú ert órótt,” he assessed. “Ferðir þínar?”