i'm not quiet, you've been quiet, just receiving what you said

He had enough of cold outings and snow on his eyelashes. The skinny little mongrel hardly had enough meat on his bones to keep him warm for very long, so his fleeing back into the warmth of his mother's cave was expected. He dove back into the nest of fur and sibling, his little body wiggling in between to get where it was the warmest.

She wasn't here at the moment. Having left with their father to catch a break or get some food to fill her belly (the kids were sucking her dry, after all). Though he knew someone was close by, watching and keeping an eye on whatever little shit came galloping out of the hole to go mess with something.

Once sufficiently warmed, his curiosity got the better of him. Wanting to know just who was keeping an eye on them while mom and dad were away. His head slowly peaked out from the mouth of the hole- ears first and then his nose and eyes. Trying to remain low and hidden so he may spy the spy before the spy spied him.

He had already given up on being the biggest, or the strongest, or the fattest- might as well take a crack at being the sneakiest.

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Freyja had awaken some days ago on the slopes of Morðfjall with no memory of what had happened before her awakening. She knew she had come to new lands where her siblings now lived and called home. She had found Stjör and was brought to their new home, where she learned her beloved older brother now had a family of his own.

And as of today with both Stjör and Kajsa out of the den, it was left to the youngest aunt to watch her nephews. Freyja respected the sanctity of Kajsa's den and waited outside in the sun, chin tilted up to bathe in its warmth. Freyja longed for normalcy, for her memories to return to her. She hated not remembering what had happened before now. The not knowing of how she survived or why she was brought back.

The woman was dragged from her thoughts by the soft sound of tiny feet near the mouth of the den. Seeing a pale blond head, a small smile spread of Freyja's face. Ah, Atta. Freyja had grown a soft spot for the little boy, his features very similar to his father's.

"Atta, hvert heldurðu að þú sért að fara?" — Atta, where do you think you're going? She said with a soft gentleness that she reserved for the children. Freyja refused to ever raise her voice at them, no matter how much trouble they caused. To her, they were nothing but curious, not a single malicious bone in their small bodies. But she was entrusted with keeping an eye on them, and that was exactly what she was going to do.

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misc skill ; babysitter

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The boy startles slightly to the sudden voice from behind him, though it is gentle and familiar. He turns his head slowly with guilt, his eyes recognizing the delicate visage of his aunt. She was still a mysterious sight to him, having only been able to encounter her a handful of times during his short life- mostly in passing and brief mentions. He knew of her, at the least.

She spoke their mother tongue, something that pleased the young boy even if he failed to show it. The words were almost familial, in a sense, as even now he associated the language strictly with his family.

The boy shrunk slightly against the snow, though still stood with some effort towards grace and bravery.

"Ekkert. — Nothing." He said simply- a clear lie. 

He batted his long white eyelashes at her, trying to play innocence to the best of his ability. So young yet already a little manipulator.

"Hvað ertu að gera? — What are you doing?" His voice was slightly suspicious in nature, trying to spin it back around to her as if she was also caught doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing.

He climbed more out of the mouth of the den as he spoke, clambering over the snow and steepness of it. His stature short, paws buried in the snow, and green eyes glimmering with a sort of curious awe that he reserved only for things he thought were pretty.

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