in your darkest hours

though asriel considers he should not perhaps travel so much, he assuages his own worries by not venturing too far. instead of south of cloudrest, deeper into the mountains, the fjordic beast finds himself venturing north into the tundra ...the region in which cloudrest flirts with. he ventures down a decent path with strong footing, only fully releasing the breath he'd been holding when hewn rock gives way to solid, snow blanketed ground. seasalt colored paws sink into the soft, cold snow, listening to it crunch beneath his weight as he hurries across the expanse of plains into the evergreen forest.

he seeks the shelter of the sharp evergreens, following the flight of a raven that catches his attention with a echoing caw; beady, obsidian gaze looking upon him. where the bird leads him, as the winged fiend ducks below branches and turns sharply to avoid grasping pine needles, which instead rain down upon asriel's head as he keeps pace beneath the bird ...is anyone's guess.

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A land of frost and cold, though felt simply peaceful in quiet beauty that was it's snow-touched colors. Travelling far and so through the plains did she come across the area of evergreens, though covered with the slight flock of ravens that hover through — and eerie sight for someone who only recently woken up. Though curious she was, with a touch of caution as she could smell visitors often through these woods but no borders to be claimed.. A transmute for loners and likewise, perhaps a pack nearby she knew not about. Tundrian wolves, surely so, vikings and the tribes of the north, she had yet to come across one.

Though a boy, in the distance, shaded with the love of the pines itself as it rained upon her head. Though painful, harmless that — she could not help chuckle, at such a scene before her. Such a small boy with a messy now way, she would hope the sap would not cling to his head as it normally does to the needles. .. Though the question to be, where is his caretaker?

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it is the low chuckle that draws asriel's attention to the fact that he is not as alone as he'd first assumed. he turns quick, the motion dispelling the loose pine needles that had taken refuge upon his head. he gives his head a shake to further dispel them, left ear twitching as one drifts featherlight across it. the stranger bears a pelage of warm butterscotches and creams; as if kissed by the sunlight itself. the raven asriel had been following, letting out a low trilling caw and lands on a branch arching over asriel's head. a glimpse upwards is given, towards to bird, briefly studying the winged fiend.

thought. memory. the words play chase around his mind for a moment; spell broken the moment his glacial gaze flickers back towards the stranger.

“hagl, — hail” asriel's greeting defaults to fjordic without the conscious will for it to do so. that language as old as the sky and bone, known intimately familiar to him upon his awakening without much sense as to why given that his mother did not appear to share it.

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"I'm afraid I only know one tongue and nothing more," Uriel admitted as she stepped closer to the boy and he greeted her with an unknown language. Though she could vaguely tell what one may be, in the end could not speak. Yet, a curiosity dwelved between as she had the slightest desire to know more of so, when in a past time she could not, nor' met many that could give a patience. He sounded Icelandic, Uriel assumed, though even if she desired to learn.. Perhaps it was not best to ask a mere' child to help a lending paw to that adventure.

"Are you with anyone?" She asked, a faint smell of others upon his pelt but when the golden woman looked around, she saw no one within the everfrost. It was bit still pines with the scent of loners passing by and beasts to it so. As far as she was aware, no one was claiming this forest, and neither could she tell if there was a pack around it.

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any lingering uncertainty is chased away as the woman draped in butterscotches informs him that she speaks in only one tongue. “ah,” asriel drawls, giving a quick if not sage nod of his head in non-verbal communication that he understood. “i keep hoping that one day i will speak it and someone will understand me.” perhaps might even be able to answer the questions that linger around it even if they were not specific answers. at her question, asriel does not hesitate; is not filled with trepidation of any kind. in this, at least, he knows who he is and where he belongs. but he fortunate. his siblings have clearly not been so lucky ... or so he is so quick to believe with no other evidence to go off of.

“i am asriel and i hail from frostchant. we claim the cloudrest.” he introduces, gesturing in frostchant's direction with a smooth motion of his muzzle. “and you?” he inquires.

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"Is it Icelandic?" Since even he expressed some desire, in the hope others would know.. It gave the short confidence to gain more knowledge of the desire. It seemed a shame he struggled to find others to speak his language, first spoken — assumed his mother-tongue. Uriel could only imagine how sad that might be, to be surrounded by wolves who know only a few handful, and might not be his own. She noticed in particular most, to her thankfulness, spoken the same language in tongue, one she knew not it's true name but often universal.

"A few within the Everfrost, for we came to this land in unknown ways," she so confessed, a pitiful smile. Though also small hinting toward they were not a pack, but a fresh group of loners simply together, in a hope for.. Something — she in particular, a desiring for a home.. Though what interested her was there was a claim somewhere, words and packs thrown she knew of, nor' smelled. Though if he went distance away for being a child, perhaps it was closer then she thought.

"Where is Cloudrest? If you don't mind me asking." Knowing well some packs are rather secretive in location.

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she inquires as to it's origins; a question that, embarrassingly, stumps asriel. he does not know it's origins, nor how he's even come to know it so intimately. like many things in his life this was another question with no foreseeable answer gathered in the collection of other questions with no answers. “i don't know,” he admits; shuffling his feet about in the snow. the burn of humiliations stings his cheeks, but his fur hides the worst of it, even if his ears flutter backwards, betraying him. “i call it fjordic.” though where that term originated from he also does not know. so many unknowns. asriel tries not to focus upon them lest they threaten to drive him mad.

to hear that they, too, came to these lands in strange ways brings a question to his lips but he bites them back, sensing that he — nor anyone else — will find the answer to the unknowns.

“we are just to the south.” asriel replies. “up on the mountains.” he adds, then, almost as an afterthought. “how many are you?” he inquires, unsure if it was polite to do so; but ultimately doing it anyway. she had mentioned others. “are you thinking of laying claim here?” which seemed, at the very least, an important question so he knew to inform the queen of frostchant so no one ( else ) accidentally trespasses.

238 words

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"I have not heard that term," she said, a pondering and puzzling look, "though it sounded familiar to Icelandic.." Uriel may not know the languages, but she had a general grasp on what they sounded like, and what particular regions hold them. It was well known the north usually held such tongues, but she had never heard the term 'Fjordic..' A curiosity if it was but a nickname to them, as cultures differed to what they called it from her own mother-tongue.

Her silver eyes momentarily slide past him to gaze down south, where mountains blocked the tundra to see what was beyond. It was well-learned to know there was more packs wandering about, as Uriel knew so little about the place she woke up in — it was truly a wonder.

Though she snapped back out the wonder, "ah, with but a few — we are only fostering a desire for a home.. Though not a pack," and would they? When she thought of a group, it was larger then the current three.. The question as well if they truly were to attempt to claim the Everfrost as well. At the moment, such thoughts were not vocal from any companion, including herself. It was but a temporary base.

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“perhaps they are similar,” asriel allows; considering, head tilting in thought as he processes her words in turn. “or perhaps they are the same.” in lieu of sounding like a broken record, he does not repeat what he has already admitted: that he didn't know. it was one of the many mysteries he woke up with he awoke in these strange lands. it was only by the gods will that he'd woken in the land where his mother claimed; a mercy, he thinks ...from everything else they seemed to withhold. she speaks in answer to his question and asriel considers that information with a swivel of his ears; a thoughtful twitch of his tail.

“i see,” the young berserker drawls. he considers offering asylum in frostchant, should they decide not to form beyond their companionship but hesitates. not because he doesn't trust her — in fact, he is quick to trust which is a trait that betrays his youth — but because he does not wish to undermine his mother. did he have the power to offer such things? likely not. “whether you find yourself desiring to claim or drifting apart ...and if it suits you, at least seek us out at frostchant.” confident and happy with what he settled for in the interim, asriel gives a sage nod meant more for himself than otherwise.

it opened a door for a possible alliance should they claim the everfrost ...or potential recruits if they did not. the norns weaved their threads of fate in unpredictable ways, though. threads could snap and break and fray or change direction in the tapestry all together. “i would offer more but i do not wish to overstep.” he admits then with a sheepish, boyish grin ( charming even, perhaps ) and a lofty shrug of his broadening shoulders.

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A curiosity to this boy — seemingly far too mature for his age. She wondered if his mother had raised him like so, or was but another runaway like many. It was not uncommon for those abandoned or lost to have to grow up quicker, and she always saw it as but a shame. He did not mention and wondered if it was too much information to ask of so — Uriel once more bit her tongue at such a manner that was not her business. Curiosity be damned, for in the end a wild tongue would only lead to the heartbreak of others, and painful words to etch from their stories.

"Thank you," she said to his offer. If all were to fail at least there was the thought of Frostchant looming in a comfort, and yet.. Found it hard to truly trust his words, but did not show it and remained a kind smile. He may offer so but words of a child mean little to that of the group, for all she knew they were solidarity, or warriors that did not align to herself. Knowing how to fight is one thing but she was by no means a true one, only the basics. It was not a life she desired, or to hang by.

"Do you often come to this forest?"

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