Wardruna looked up to her, a piece of greenery still hanging from her mouth as surprise washed over Sheauga's face. If she wasn't supposed to eat them all at once - well, too late. It showed how little Wardruna knew about herbs herself. It also showed the trust she had in Sheauga, too.

Yet as laughter took to the little woman next to her, it was enough to let Wardruna known she didn't just majorly fuck up. Savor the bitter taste which sat on her tongue now, causing War to jut her tongue from her mouth several times as though trying to scrap the taste off with her small front teeth.

Sheauga was caught off once more by Wardruna. This time with her question. When Sheauga looked away, Wardruna's eyes would follow her own out unto the scenery around them. They were nestled on the outskirts of Northfall's territory. Where the deepest parts of the forest lie. Dens had been dug and littered all around for their guests to nestle within.

The little woman speaks of celebrating with feasts, not until their own people. They would speak to the Great Spirit to guide the souls to the spirit world. One place, all together. That was far simpler. It is not our people's way to mourn for long, as we believe we will see one another again in another life. We believe our fallen go to the land of the gods. There are different realms... Valhalla, for its greatest warriors and those who die in battle. Fólkvangr being for those of Freya's choosing, among a few. Of course there was Niflheim, but this was a place Wardruna had no intention of knowing and hoped none of her family would, either.

We believe they have the ability to see us, too... Although she did not know if this was always or for everyone. She did not known if they spoke on the wind and rain. Those in Valhalla battled and feasted, so likely it was they were quite distracted with their own new existence. If her father were to have achieved godlihood, how often would he take to visit the land of the living now?