Journey ran somewhere in the tundra lands between openness of the winterscar great lake and the veil shrouded in smog. She had been bound to Northfall for far too long and after all their visitors had returned to their homelands, a quiet settled into the territory once again.

The journeyman longed to stretch her legs, to venture and so, she did. Packlife did not bind the woman, especially one which followed rhe culture of viking and their exploratory nature. She would enjoy herself out here without second thought.

Quick paces through the heavy snows, she woofed out, stirring the crow, stirring the herd in the distance. She watched with a wonder as caribou rushed and the ground rumbled under her feet from their hoof beats. Hooves she once had in anither life and long missed.