gjalla’s ears twitched at the name, her gaze lifting slowly toward him over the shimmer of the river’s surface. her fur clung to her cheeks in heavy, curling locks, haloed in moonlight. where once her stare might’ve cut, now it searched.

týr, she repeated, almost skeptical. she rolled the sound around in her mouth like a stone. not just a name, no. there was weight to it. she could feel it in her bones, even if her mind couldn’t place the full shape of him. her head dipped with slow grace, offering the regards of a queen. the god. she murmured, tone softened by a kind of quiet reverence.

she stepped from the water, droplets clung to her lashes and caught in the heavy curls of her mane, but she was clean now—thank the stars. a pleasure, regardless. it did not defeat her curiosity, though—you know me?