Gateway to Journeys

For @Stjörnuáti

The deep night. Silence. All and then nothing. The world, her reality even, fell away beneath her. All that was known before, gone. Faded. As if the writing in the prior pages of a book had been erased. All irrelevant, now.

But, some things were never completely forgotten.

Beneath, something cold and hard. Steady, but so unlike the shape and texture of stone. Worn planked floor boards, layered with dust. Unnatural. Even more so, the enclosed space. A back room of the barely standing, ancient building was where her body laid. Unmarred, decorated in ivory, platinum, charcoal and fawn. The colors of the Northern wilderness. A Tundrian such as her had never meant to inhabit such a foreign place.

With a sudden flicker of Jade stone eyes, she awoke. A gasp, breathing in the new air. Letting it fill her lungs as if for the very first time. As if alive all over again, Keyni sat upright, lifting herself. The floor beneath her body felt strange. Not at all like the stone and soil she was used to. The confined, square space too confining. She yearned for space. The open air she knew. But where, where was she?

She sought any source of light she may find, to guide her to freedom.
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He found himself alone this night, traveling North in the deep darkness. Synin had gone to sleep much earlier, settling in to his perch soon after the moon had stolen the spotlight. If anything, it was a comforting thing, to him, this solitude. It gave him time to think, and to process. Over the past weeks, the mountain had begun to harbor more of this land's wolves.

In some ways, he was surprised — he had always been of the rougher sort, not in the way that he was prone to fighting, but in the way that he view things, in the way that he had been raised. In other ways, he was not at all surprised. @Valmúa had always had some silly thing to say about the women he managed to find. This time, however, he had found a few males to keep company with as well. His sister would have been proud of him.

Huffing a laugh, Stjornuati continued his exploration of the odd structures of this area. He had noted the oddly geometric holes in the sides of the oddly square hills. He wondered how they became to be this way, why they seemed to be oddly large dens. His hackles shifted along his back, the quiet of the evening settling in to alight his nerves. That wasn't fear, that was adrenaline's predecessor, readying him should anything equally as odd reveal itself to him.

As if on cue, he hears a sound to his right, immediately swinging his body to face it. A low, threatening growl rumbled to life in his throat, warning whatever creature rattled around inside the curious hill that if they were foolish enough to attack him, he would not take such matters lying down. He would not, in fact, take it at all.
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Awake in an alien world that made no sense, that felt too tight, the Tundrian's senses were in overdrive.

Naturally, she was on edge. Almost panicky. Glaringly out of character for a individual who was usually so composed.

Finally, there came a sound that was familiar. Understood, but not necessarily welcome. A low growl, from something. It came from outside, helpful at least in guiding her towards open air.

Re-oriented, Keyni faced the gaping door frame in which the dark of night poured. Hackles lifting, she was defensive as the skin of her muzzle began to wrinkle, teeth not yet bared. As she took a step, only her jade eyes, framed by platinum fur gave away who she was, a warning growl in her throat.
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It was a stand off. One Stjornuati would not give any slack to, in case this was some sort of ambush. Instinct glued him to the spot, deciding that entering the dark den would certainly be a mistake.

“Show yourself,” He commanded, voice graveled and low as the rumble in his throat began anew.

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And so she would. Focused now on the voice that called her forth, her steps were slow and measured. She was leery of the doorway, dark tipped ears pinning back in uncertainty when she slid through it's threshold. She held her nerve, focused ahead out into the night. Searching the dark for whom that voice might belong to.

Her rumbling growl was soft, steady. Jade eyes hard, a rare look for them. Even rarer to see the Tundrian female so defensive, hackles lifted. "Don't test me." She called out firmly. Eyes darting left and right, searching for the one who spoke. 

They had met, once. Long ago, in another life. Her form was unchanged, unmarred. Still as recognizable as ever, to anyone who had known her. Time had passed. This was a different world now. Would he have forgotten her?
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Something scratched at his mind, a gentle feeling, but an annoyance nonetheless. It was as if there was a taste in the air, or a smell that he could not quite place. It was there, just there, just out of reach. Staring into her green eyes, his teeth bared as her own were, Stjornuati could not help but feel as if...

Eyes narrowed as he peered closer, gaze far more calculated now, lips falling to sheathe his snarl. Curious that they stood here now, together when last they met...

Reach. What is that memory? We know her.

Last they met, they were hunting together, a pair unmatched within the caverns. They had never exchanged names but a well made match had been made with little effort. “This one was not expecting to see another we know.” It was as much of an explanation he could give to explain that he recognized her, not quite knowing how to word such things, especially when taken so off guard.

The question was, did she recognize him as well?

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The lines of her muzzle smoothed, releasing their tension. The harsh look in her eyes fading away. Standing there, feet before her, was the man cloaked in cream and gold. A windswept scent. A certain aura about him that would be mistaken for no other. It had been ages. So, so long. She thought she would never see him again.

She had not forgotten, despite all the time that had spanned between now and that singular day, lost to time. They barely knew one another. And yet, the Tundrian never felt a deeper sense of understanding. "You..." She breathed, her voice softer. "Stjornuati." Any defensiveness in her posture was long gone. Closer she stepped, as if unsure of the reality of it all.

She did not hesitate. Not when she leaned in, pressed herself to his chest in a bold move so very unlike her. She was convinced, if he pulled away, then he was not real after all. "I thought I would never see you again..."
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"You"

Him. Her. He did recognize her, even if lightly. But she remembered him fully in a way that his memory had not grasped. Not yet at least. It wasn't actually until she pushed forward and touched him that it all hit him like a freight train. Her name, her scent, her everything. The man could not help but wag his tail, nose lowering to preen at her fur with tongue and teeth, accepting her closeness and returning it in kind.

“This one has lost and found many, litla veiðikona — little huntress. This one is glad to see that Keyni is alright.” His proncunciation of her name was as close as his accent would allow him, returning to cleaning the fur along the slope of her cheek as he rumbled in satisfaction.

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Her jade eyes hid behind her eyelids in a content moment. Accepted and welcomed so close. It had been so terribly long, but she felt like she knew him so very well. To the point that it felt natural pressing up to him. She inhaled, drinking in his scent. All of him, letting it flood her. Gently she pressed her forehead further against the line of his neck.

"I feel like I have lost and gained so much. I have so many memories...but most, they are all muddled." Dark tipped ears slanted back, she sighed appreciatively from his affections. "I am glad to have found you, too." She didn't even notice or care that he might have missed the pronunciation of her name, with his Nordic accent. "I missed you...I thought of you often." And it was true, too. She peeked up at him shyly, clipping her teeth along the line of his jawbone.

She would worry about where they were at in a little bit. Right now, she was happiest to indulge in being back in his welcome company.
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Her bid to press closer was welcomed, listening closely as she spoke, her voice muffled against his own windswept fur. He knew what she spoke of, the way some memories were clear and others were decidedly not. This place, this world had a strange effect on those that came to exist here and while it was something that he had come to accept, he knew that it was disorienting at the first wake. This was his third now, and it felt... different, more solid than any other time before.

The raven-friend was somewhat surprised at the smaller woman's admission, though not something he was displeased by. It made the way her teeth gently razed the skin along his jawline all the more electric and enticing. While he could not say the same truthfully to her, Stjornuati did not balk at this; some memories of his past were still locked behind barriers that he never knew existed until they presented themselves, as they had with Keyni.

“You are here now, veiðikona. That is all that matters.” He would nudge her then, sweeping his tongue once more along her cheek. “Walk with this one. This one will show you home.” Only then would he step back and move in the direction whence he came, though he would pause here and wait for her to walk beside him.

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In her past life, she had known so many. Had established relationships and friendships with a wide range of individuals. But none with the deep pull she felt, with him. A man, strangely, she had shared company with once and knew next to nothing of. Were her emotions playing tricks on her? Or was her gut instinct truly right?

When he spoke, the one word in a foreign tongue piqued her curiosity. As she began to draw back, but not far of course, her look was inquisitive. Seeking. "That word... veiðikona, what does it mean?" She asked, a light dancing in her eyes. The way he used it, it had to be something good.

Nudging his cheek softly, with no small degree of affection, she would begin to follow him, nearly shoulder to shoulder.  "Yes. Home. With you."
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“Woman hunter.” For he did not know the word: huntress. It was what the man remembered of her, what he remembered of their time together. “Litla means little. Small. Litla veiðikona, little woman hunter.” It was rare that Stjornuati bothered to explain his language to others beyond what they asked of him, so to explain exactly how he was referring to her was an indication of the pleasure he took in her sudden appearance.

Her nudge drew a grin from him, chin lifting pridefully for a moment as he rumbled his own acknowledgement. Yes. Home. Mordfjall. His home, where he would build his claim upon the mountain, alongside his brother and now, Keyni.

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