ripples of times past

Her wounds had healed from the snow leopard, thank the gods. It hadn't taken long considering the way the cat had clawed her. A bit stiff in the shoulder area, but she was able to move without flinching. Good. She didn't want anyone to consider her an easy target. Following the scent of a snow hare, she tracked it to this location. It was right above the Moors, where Kalvin was safely 'stashed'. She didn't know what she'd do with the boy long-term.

She had to find food for both of them, but she was just one wolf. The spill of blood would no doubt attract predators and scare off any other prey. She had to be smart about it. Watching the hare nibbling for foliage, she lunged after a few seconds. It squealed, taking off toward the not-nearly-frozen lake. Edelweiss rushed the best she could, the pain in her shoulder slowing her down. The hare had the sense to veer off at the last minute, causing her to tumble.

Her pivot was not fast enough. She almost fell into the lake itself. Digging her claws against the wet autumn ground, she managed to escape that embarrassment. With the hare gone, she cursed. Stomping back to the start, she tried to find a good place to hunker down and wait for a foolish animal to come along. There was an abundance of snow near the northern section, away from the Moors. It wouldn't do to be near the south, where the snow didn't cover much. She walked, giving the lake a berth.

Unaware or not really caring, she only stopped when someone acknowledged her verbally. Edelweiss calmly looked at them, but said nothing. Not right away.

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Though she looked calmly into his direction, the youth had said nothing to him in response. Likely so, she did not understand him granted the mouthful of fur and flesh in his jaws. It was the hare which she had been hunting. Ragnar having been north of her and this land so open and flat, had taken a chance at the hare after Edelweiss had long since lost her chance. With the prey already tired, Ragnar had easily taken the opportunity for himself. At least, so it would first appear. Settling the rabbit down, he repeated his words, “I believe this was yours.”
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A man approached, old enough to know right from wrong. Her sisters always proclaimed as such; yearlings and children could be forgiven. An adult knew exactly what they were doing. That's part of why she rejected the rabbit. "No" While unexpected, even kind in gesture, Edelweiss didn't need hand-outs. Besides, he had been the one to catch it "it is your trophy" she said with her Teachings in mind "spoils go to those who can kill their own food."

She didn't suspect he had poisoned it, oh no. It was a matter of pride — but was it good enough to reject? Kalvin was hungry and weaned off milk. He needed food. She tried to backpedal from her words, finding it'd be fickle to accept now. She looked down at the rabbit, pondering. "I will only accept because someone needs it more than my pride." Edelweiss placed a paw on the corpse, dragging it closer. Her words were cryptic, but she didn't care if he asked.

The scent of a child was on her by now. He could summarize that she was caring for one. "Thanks" she tried to keep her tone civil. He had gone out of his way to bring it back, when he could have just kept it. Now it was hers. No take-backs.

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No, the yearling had stated and went on to explain why. It was well understood and he could not blame her for her teachings. It would be something as this that he imagined telling his own children as they grew to hunt on their own. You work hard for the things which you want in life and care for those who were young or old that could not for themselves. The young were the future, the old were knowledge of time.

“Understood.” He said, though she began to contemplate this. Perhaps she should take it and not allow her pride to get in the way. She had been taught to take no hand outs, but she would not let another go without due to her own beliefs. She knew someone else in need, someone which she was caring for. Quite a bit to take on, being a yearling herself and still far from an expert really at anything being her age.

He would confirm as she placed a paw onto the rabbit, pulling it near. “My pack is a large one, with many good hunters. So yes, its all yours.” He hated to brag- no, he really didnt hate it. He was proud of his pack and all those within it and it showed with the sincere smile written over his face. He remembered when Valmua had brought him a great stag all herself as a gift, though they had not spoken much since...

“I'm Ragnar Stormborn.” He would introduce. “Of Northfall.”
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He bragged — as men do.

She watched, not one to talk for long periods of time. Nor cared to continue a conversation with strangers, not caring further if they took offense. She only stayed because she felt obligated now to socialize with the one who caught the food for Kalvin.  She gave a communicative hum at his words, gathering her thoughts.

"Stormborn" she mused, lifting a brow. The girl was not amused, or making fun of his name. It was a repeat. Ah, yes... The "Northern" wolves, foreigners to her people, had names made up of two words. Usually nature in, ah, nature. Her sisters always were wary of them. Hell, others were too. Northern men were ambitious and took things. All in the name of their gods and pride.

Those unlucky to earn their fancy was often the source of kidnappings, pillaging, and violence. Not unlike the men of her realm, to be frank. That's why her sisters lived in seclusion from them. But they were especially concerned about an encroaching raid from the north. If the Northern wolves invaded, there was a chance the unaffiliated females would have to fight too. Madness.

"Edelweiss" she raised the paw that had claimed the rabbit and gestured to herself before it was planted right back. A name was given to a Northern child, discarded from her Northern family. Raised by the daughters and mothers of a hermit community. So she did not really care if this man was Northern or not, considering she was one herself. Perhaps in another world

— they could even be kin.

"You do not smell of the Tundra" she points out, nose twitching. No, he did not smell like the icy winds and lingering mint pine needle she came to associate here. It was close, but not quite "but you did not walk far from this Northfall" His brag suggested he was an alpha, and leaders rarely strayed from their base unless required "I assume your pack is in the mountains below us?"

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She seemed disinterested with him, but she stayed, politely so. Maybe later in life his favor to her would come in handy. Maybe not. He hummed in turn when she repeated his family name back to him and then she offered her own name. No family name was given, whether she did not have one or had long ago abandoned it. Archer was the family which birthed Ragnar, an empire all their own, one which Ragnar still very much admired and loved, but had within himself a drive to begin his own namesake- Stormborn, given as a middle sister and his twin, born in obvious weather conditions. It was considered much great fortune to be birthed during a storm. So Ragnar and Freya became.

Didn't smell of the tundra? But, then again, “Yes, at the edge of this Frozen Ground. They line along the coast at their southern facing.” Ragnar did not live deep within the tundra where there was nothing much but ice, snow and hardy shrub. He lived within the mountains, dotted with many an evergreen at the base and along the sea at one side. These scents, salt and pine, were not of the open tundra and this was likely her thinking. “Is your own home not far from here either?”
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"I see," she glanced away from him to look where he described before her eyes slowly drifted back "I have no home in this realm" Edelweiss began "I had just woken here, taken from my former home for some reason." The greens and deep, dark paths of woodland beyond her now. It may be the same here, in the mountains, but it would be a pale imitation. Her gods did not look here. They were not here. She could not sense them here. She was alone.

She shrugged.

"The mountains seem very packed from what I can smell" she remarked idly "I have scouted beyond the Moor at times, and you are all... neighbors" To be polite about it "in some way" And while she would not give a shit about the issues with that, being a vagabond right now, she was also not pressing for information "I think I prefer the Tundra. It is more expansive, and I can blend in easier." You could swing a cat and not hit someone's border for one.

Though she was surprised somewhat to learn a northern wolf would not take to the farthest reaches of a map. Is that not what they did? She had more to learn about her origins. "It is difficult to hunt among stark greenery."

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The young woman before him spoke of having no home, having only just awoken to this new land, stolen away from what she knew, as many before her. “Your not alone in this...” He informs, as he had for many others. “Many have an Awakening here, whether from a slumber or with a last memory of death...” He frowns, remorseful for her. After all, depending on tbe circumstances, arriving here could be quite horrible. Some were given a second chance at life, where they had died in the past. Some escaped from a place they wanted to break free of. Ragnar himself had been lucky enough to have come here with his immediate family in tow. Others however, torn from the only home they knew and loved, family and friends possibly never to be seen again...

“Ah, yes... many have claimed different mountains all around. They come and they go. The central chain is quite large, its peaks stretching quite south from here.” He informs when she speaks of the various packs throughout the mountain regions. “I like having different scenery.” He went on as she finished explaining her own preference out here. “From the snow covered peaks, to the trees dotting the foothills and into the forest east and the ocean at the south end...” He went on in thought, shrugging then.

He had not picked Northfall as his place of home without much thought. There was everything to offer that one could hope for as far as land went and if one wanted openness, the Moors and Frozen Ground was just beyond. “The area is popular with reason, though I admit the quiet out here is refreshing.” He says then with a deep breath, taking in the crisp air.
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The more they spoke, the more she was beginning to notice the fallen snow on the arctic hare. She drops her eyes briefly to glance down, realizing it was becoming stiff and unusable for a child's meal. "It is very quiet, yes" she continues after Ragnar had finished speaking "though, as much as the conversation was informative and pleasant, I must depart." She does not touch the prey right away though, even if her neck slips downward.

"My ward is but a boy, and if this hare gets any stiffer I fear I must chew it for him" Edelweiss explains her sudden departure "I would rather not, to be frank" Her tone was void of amusement, though there could be some joke to it if one looked hard enough "a pleasure, Ragnar Stormborn. Farewell." She plucks then the kill from the earth and begins to walk off. The last flick of her tail signals she bids him a physical farewell, the girl vanishing south among the snow.

/exit

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As the conversation came to a closing and the woman before him spoke of not wanting to chew the food up herself first, he couldn't help but chuckle. Her words were dry, but the dry humor was there.

“Its not at all that pleasant really.” He spoke through his chuckle. Having pups of his own still too young even to chew their food, him eating it himself and then having to throw it up for them was an remarkable necessity.

“And to you too.” He said with a dip of his blonde muzzle as she lifted the hair into her mouth. A moment of watching her retreat and then Ragnar would head south too, albeit more west to the mountains of his home.
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