Those eyes- they were so deeply captivating! It made her want to rise to the fjord and stare down at the dark waters below.

Red feather tucked away to prepare for travel and a paw stamping the earth three times. Wardruna woofs to her, turning away and following the river for which she came. She spoke little now, as her words of all known languages were useless in this situation.

Northfall. Her muzzle jutting to the snow tipped mountains ahead. Wardruna. A pause to place a paw to her chest before continuing on. Once they made it to the outskirts of their claim, Wardruna seeks the closest cache. Within was a full goat leg and strips of salt-seasoned caribou, courtesy of Journey, most likely.

Wardruna lifts her head to the black female, head tilted with question. Would this do?