bow down and kiss my ring

— @Stjörnuáti

^^Salene had trekked for a few days content with the fact that Winterheart was solid. She'd gotten the impression that the woman would love it and tend to it as she had. There was a feeling there that was good - wholesome in a sense. Salene didn't remember the last time she'd seen Winterheart. There was still the part of her that was drawn North. Years in the snow and ice had hardened her to a point that her joints had been frozen shut it felt like. The Ostara was heading that call - the sirens song was drawing her further and further. She drew in a deep breath of mountain air and admired it for a moment.

Evening was drawing closer and the sun had already started to set. Her mismatched eyes trailed across the mountain range and the sharp way it cut the sky. The stars must have been amazing there - so clear and open. Another deep breath and she could near taste it. As much as she'd been raised in the Forests and the trees, the North had meant freedom - and she could near taste it.^^
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Paws carried him after @"D'Artagnan", the pale raven stark against the clear blue sky. Early this morning, he had strode down the mountain he had been drawn to, hringja whispering in his ear, his soul, pulling him away from his brother's side, from the forest of ravens that felt so familiar and completely new at the same time. His feathered companion had joined him on the slopes, taking flight once they'd moved on past the shadow of Hrafnsvaktin, a single caw an indication that he should follow. Stjörnuáti did exactly that, following him past the sprawling lands of ice and into a more mountainous region.

While he did not stop to explore the finer details of the land, Stjörnuáti took care to remember his path and the sights he could see from it. It was only when his companion called out to him again that the hardened, maroon gaze moved from the landscape to the sky again, watching as the bird circled overhead of something. Or, perhaps, someone.

She was small, petite, like the one he'd driven away some days ago, but even from a distance, the stareater knew it was not the same female. “Kveðja, — Greetings,” He called out, tail lax behind him. Here, he was on his own; here was not he and Solpallur's mountain, and so he would be neutral until given reason to act otherwise. A glance up to the feathered synin — vision was given, still circling above them, before Stjörnuáti looked at her, ears flicking forward for a moment in mild interest.
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^^A bird cried out and she cast her eyes to the skies to peer at it, vaguely aware that it seemed focused on something else. That was fine. She didn't have much fondness for birds on their own. She knew some that did - usually keeping them as pets. Or being kept as pets themselves without even knowing it. It was shockingly harder to see than most birds she'd caught sight of - what an unusual one among its own kind it must have been. She was more focused on the bird than the wolf that trailed it and for a moment her heart shuttered painfully, a memory of one loved and lost making her stop in her tracks.

Saeran - it couldn't be. She froze, the Ostara's eyes wide and a fierce pounding in her chest making it hard to process. But those were not his eyes, and that was not his build, still, the thought of him made her ache with her longing. She had learned how to live without her husband early on. He'd died in battle as was appropriate but the loss of Saeran had come far later after years of supporting one another. Their clans had both grown - children married off, battles won, victories celebrated. Losses mourned.

The voice that offered her a common word made her ears cup towards him, her mismatched gaze scrutinizing him in a way that she typically just glanced over others. “Heil ókunnigr — Hello, stranger” She responded, head lifted not out of dominance but out of pure pride.^^
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Here, where there none of his own, where the call had led him not to a place but a being, Stjörnuáti did not respond to the rise of the woman's head past his own mirroring the movement. While his curiosity was instant, the gilded male watched her with nothing more than cool, placid interest, eyes the color of innards hung from a tree flickering over the woman. At the same time, he drew a breath in, taking in her scent and allowing his mind to parse it. Unfamiliar. Female (obviously). Alone.

An ear twitched. His stance shifted a touch. D'Artagnan glided close to settle on his shoulder, preening at the fur behind the wolf's ear. “Úr hvaða ætt ertu? — What clan are you from?” There was no point in stating the obvious observation that she was a northerner. Of course she was, with the quick ease that she had answered him in one of his own tongues. Norse was not a language just any wolf knew, after all.
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^^While peculiar it wasn't entirely unexpected. Salene had a penchant for finding those she was meant to find. Why would it be any different here? If Winterheat was yet again meant to be beyond her grasp then the pale Ostara would find her place where she'd lived the majority of her life. Those red eyes peered at her and were not the green of her bróðir. Saeran could not be replaced or replicated, and the Endore knew that dreaming him up in some land was impossible. His question made her eyes narrow a bit and a cryptic smile grow on her face. She wouldn't give their name - not here, not on common lands and without the promise of trust. “Minn eiga — My own” She said, curious what his response would be.

She was almost more curious about that bird than she was about the fact that he knew the Northern tongue. She'd learned it as needed, grateful for her sharp mind and her quick retention. She'd never had the size for battle but she'd had the heart for it and she'd been just as fearless as any queen had ever been. “þinn — Yours?” She asked - and that feeling told her she hadn't met just anyone after all.^^
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The raven's wings unfolded and beat once, twice against the back of his neck, causing the male to shift his shoulders and tilt his head enough to look back at the blue-eyed avian, whose focus was the woman, it seemed. Grunting, Stjörnuáti turned his gaze there once more, the slightest cant to his head as she told him her origins. A kvenvíking — female viking was not unheard of, especially not in the Keep; his own battle instructor had been a battle hardened shield maiden who had long stood aside the men, fostering an early appreciation for any kona who could hold her own.

Still, he mimicked her words, tail flickering behind him. “Minn eiga. — My own.” Long had he understood that it was he and Solpallur's fate to lead at the Raven Tower, from the place they had been before to now. It had been the second time they had found such a place and such things were not coincidental, not when his waking dream here had been of the raven. “There. To the North,” He said in the old tongue, indicating one of the far away mountains with a point of his muzzle. “My brother and I seek to claim the spire the raven's guard.” It would have been one thing if she had been some common she wolf; he would not have shared such information, but D'Artagnan had led him here for a reason, and he had a feeling she was it.
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^^Salene was particularly critical. She always had been. This man, despite piquing her interest, wasn't able to escape her scrutiny. When he parroted her words a shrewd sort of smile grew on her face, finding that particular sort of sass pleasing. She decided to come closer and when she stopped there was only a few yards between them now. North. Her tongue toyed along one fang as he went on to explain that they were trying to establish a claim. “Show me.” She didn't ask him, and there was no pause to see how he'd react. The spire she assumed was part of a mountain and she'd never been quite fond of them. She preferred forests. She'd always been most fond of forests. “I grew up far from the North,” She admitted, regarding him for a moment as she gave these careful morsels of who she was. “But the life I lived - I was lead to the North. I answered that call.” She said, finding it just as easy to speak in those old tongues as she did day to day.

She looked back from where she'd come - and though she couldn't see Winterheart anymore she knew where her heart was trying to look and what it was trying to see. She swung her gaze back to see him. “Salene Endore.” She offered, for the first time in a long time not using her married name. It felt almost like a betrayal - like letting Auryn go - but she'd lived more of her life without him than with him. She'd been an Endore from the moment her heart beat first until it beat it's last and she was still one now.^^
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The woman's request had not gone unnoticed nor unacknowledged; the slightest movement had been given — the flick of an ear — when she had demanded that he show her their claim. At the moment, the gilded male was more interested in the explanation she gave rather than her desire to see where they sought to lay claim.

That she had been driven to answer her own hringja was something Stjörnuáti could both understand and appreciate; he and his brother had long followed their own call, though it had led them far from the Keep. The pair had never been the type to shy from the unknown, something that had led them to where they were now. Over the last months, their loyalty to their hringja had led them to not only reuniting with their siblings, but also amassing a small following of wolves. They had even found their home once more.

Salene Endore.

His head dipped then, a greeting lacking any formality, though he did give her his own name in exchange. “Stjörnuáti af Stormskýli,” He intoned before turning to start back the way he had come. “This way, Salene Endore.” He would show her what she wanted to see, feeling D'Artagnan take flight as his willowy frame eased into a comfortable lope.
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^^Stjörnuáti. His name became a memory immediately and the Ostara took to his side, allowing him to escort her back to his claim. It was easy enough to make the climb beside him, marveling at the way she moved so easily. No stiff joints, no pesty ache in her back leg where she'd been trapped.

It was a new life. A new chance. Would she stay at his side until the end of her days? It was doubtful. But it is as a start. It was something she could work with. The air grew colder as they made it further up, and each breath was a melding of her old life and her current. It felt good. It felt right.^^
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