Gyrfalcon's Keep and when the weeds begin to grow

At last, springtime was yawning awake and the daylight hours were starting to creep above freezing temperatures. But only just so. Exousia cared little for the burgeoning of new growth, the chorus of fresh young birds, and the weeks of snowmelt and rainfall to come. Her preferred seasons were the crisp quieting of fall and the dead of winter, where only the strongest prevailed.

Now was the time for the weak and soft. The dainty and bright. Then it would be summer, oppressively warm and cloudless. Months of suffering lay ahead. The thought alone was enough to make her sour.

A cacophony of screeching prey-birds sounded overhead, and the scents of a few wolves gathered underfoot. Exousia picked up her pace, eager to escape encounters with both.

Thyra's step was buoyant as she patrolled the borders, travelling along at a pace which was likely too quick for her to have properly been monitoring the scent markings. She moved with her head up, rather than low and scenting, and due to that, she was led off course and began tracking in a wider arc that took her a bit further away from where the pack's claim was meant to be established. Often, she forgot for long periods of time to even lay down markings to add to the ones that existed; but so long as she could still catch a whiff of her mother's scent from time to time, she felt relatively certain more markings weren't needed. 

She was wrong, but at least she was happy. 

Eventually, she began to realize that she'd strayed from the borders, and began making her way back toward the packlands, where she could hear the Gyrfalcons again. If her mother found her stray path...She might simply have to admit to her error. But when she caught sight of another wolf- pale, lean, with the look of someone who'd rather go unnoticed- moving in a beeline from the Keep, she perked her ears. Perhaps this could be a new recruit, if she wished for a home!

Thyra was wary of the sharpness of the woman's eyes, though she saw in that intensity the potential for a great shield maiden. All of the  Skjaldmœr had that haunted, hunting look. She uttered a soft, hopeful greeting. "Hael og sæl!"

---

"Skjaldmœr" | revered female warriors, selected to protect the holy. 
"Hael og sæl" | "Healthy and happy" a common greeting.

A soft trampling of slushed earth reached her ears, and Exousia drew to a sudden stop, turning to look towards whoever it was that approached. A girl stood there, no more than a yearling, with a coat of burnt wood and a blackened mask from which two pine-green eyes peered. The young wolf seemed interested, if not a bit shy, and though the language was somewhat foreign to her, the tone of voice was decidedly friendly.

Exousia inclined her head but made no other motion to indicate that she was friendly as well. Hail, she said, using a similar greeting, the only word she recognized within the girl’s pleasant accent. I do not understand your other words. Do you know this tongue?

The woman's greeting was similar to hers, but she could tell by her accent that she was not likely familiar with Old Norse. When she spoke in English, Thyra's mouth opened slightly and she nodded, her tail swaying from side to side. "I do speak this tongue," She said, her tone buoyant but her words clear. "I think I should speak it more often when greeting strangers; it seems in this area, that this is the language to speak, ya?"

It was a new home for her, and while she loved her language and her pack's ways, she had no qualms with speaking in a different language so that she could understand the wolves who lived in the area. "I am Thyra," She said. "Have you come looking for a pack? We have just begun settling here," She explained.

Exousia nodded to the chipper wolf, whose blackbrown coat did not match her bright spirit and lilting voice. (They should perhaps switch pelts with another to help onlookers know who had the darker heart between the two of them.) I have yet to meet a wolf in these lands who speaks a tongue other than this, she confirmed, snorting gently. It is a shame. Especially for those like herself who had none to share her own languages with.

The silvershade lifted her chin slightly and appraised the newly named Thyra with a critical eye. You are well met, Thyra. I am called Exousia. Satisfied with the healthy appearance of the girl, she decided to respond honestly to the question. I have not, she answered, a regretful note in her tone. I seek no pack but my own. And though she was too proud to apologize for unwittingly traipsing into their claim, she would have been a fool not to be interested in forming bonds with others.

What values does your pack uphold? There was a barely noticeable tilt of her head as she asked.

Thyra was proud to be able to speak more than one language, and felt complimented when Exousia expressed appreciation for her skills. Her tail picked up an amicable wave. She caught a hint of regret in Exousia's tone as well, which intrigued her. Her head tilted. "You speak other languages as well?" She asked, willing to extend the same appreciation that had been bestowed upon her only moments earlier. 

Her name sounded strong, to Thyra. And when she admitted she was looking to form her own pack, Thyra wasn't the least bit intimidated. Instead, her interest was piqued- and she would have asked more, had the same not been requested of her. "We live to preserve our belief in the Old Gods, which are very many, and it is to them that we pray, and from them that our purpose is interpreted by our High Priestess, Asvoria. We uphold the noble virtues, and teach them within our pack so that we may live a life of peace, in comfort. It is a good life to have, I think it is healthy and good to have faith." She said. In admitting this, she was reminded of her previous pack, which had fallen away from their beliefs- which was why Asvoria, Solveig and Thyra had left. It made her expression sadden slightly, but as soon as she felt the corners of her eyes droop, she brought a smile to her face again. 

"It is a good place to live. And this mountain range is lovely, ya?"

I do, the proud wolf wagged her tail. The wolves of my homeland speak with two tongues - Elliniká and Latinus. Tch, she made a noise with her teeth. I do not know what they would be called in this tongue. Does your language have a name? Her curiosity shoved her past her discomfort at trespassing. She was eager to know, or at least hear another language that wasn't the music-less notes of the common around here.

Exousia listened intently as the girl, Thyra, went on to explain the core beliefs of her pack. The religious aspect piqued her interest, but even if she was in the market for a pack not her own, she would certainly have a hard time upholding "noble virtues." She was quiet for a moment, allowing the young wolf a brief respite to think her thoughts and feel her feelings. It hardly lasted; as soon as the girl's face started to fall, she was smiling again, happily praising the mountains.

These mountains are magnificent, yes. They are a good place for many things. Best of all, a good place to worship. To be close to your gods. Exousia smiled knowingly. She herself came from a place of worship, a place of strong beliefs. But her gods had no virtues. No peace. No comfort. She knew she could not stay here. Her spirit would never rest if she died in such a respectable place.

A wolf with no faith cannot be blessed. It is not easy, but you have chosen a good life. She did not still hold the faith of her birthplace, but the strength instilled in her was invaluable, and a faith in herself had become more powerful than ever before.

A beat, and then, I must move on. Will you escort me to your nearest border? Tell me more of your tongue?

I am so sorry this has taken me so long! Thyra's still kind of new to me, I need to kick her into gear :)

Two other languages aside from this one! Thyra's tail waved, and the yearling was clearly impressed. Perhaps, if Exousia stayed around, she might teach Thyra these languages also- and they might have almost a secret language that they could use just between the two of them! It might make the woman feel more at home, if she was encouraged to speak her own tongue more. Out of all the virtues the wolves of Hjlóðrfell followed, hospitality was the easiest one for Thyra to work on. 

"I would love to hear more of them," She said, starstruck. She might have asked for a quick phrase to learn in each, had Exousia not then countered with a question of her own. "I believe it is called 'Old Norse'" She said with a faint smile. "I have always wondered if there has been a 'New Norse' or a "West Norse" to have come after," She said with a girlish giggle. 

Exousia seemed to understand what the wolves of the pack needed, and she nodded fervently. "Yes! Very much so. Hallowed places are very important to us; we give them names, and they become temples; sometimes, there is a temple for one God, and then another temple for another. Asvoria, our high priestess, she is the one who finds these places, which have been created for us." She babbled enthusiastically. 

She appreciated the comment, but her features fell when Exousia made to ne escorted away. "You could stay here to rest, if you would like?" She said. "Oh! We do have a beautiful lake, glacier-fed water. And there are comfortable caves cushioned with moss, which make for a safe and quiet place to sleep undisturbed. If you would like...A break from travel....?" Thyra offered, hopefully. She felt there was much to be learned from Exousia, and wasn't keen to part from her yet.