Kirain

Valeska broke away from the bustling ranks of Northfall and out into the tundra. It was a Celebration of Life for their lost king, but his passing stung no less despite the outpouring of support from those who had known him over the years. His loss was felt keenly by the High Priestess of Elysium, for it was he who had aided in giving herself and Amaranth the gift of their first pups - as well as remaining a steady, immovable presence within their lives.

She could scarcely believe it.

Ragnar had been so full of life, even as the fur began to grey about his muzzle; he was no less fearsome than the day they had met, thick with muscle and a heart full of iron and grit.

Now he was gone.

It was not often that Valeska sought to be alone, but she did now. She felt at home in the northern alpines, her heavy coat a testament to her heritage as an arctic wolf - small, perhaps, but built solidly, with short, stocky legs and a stout midsection that helped protect her from the cold and the wind.

She paused to look up at the sky as snowflakes settled around her eyelashes in silent apology.

The world is so much less without you in it, she said to the sky. Wherever this Valhaller - Valhalla was, Ragnar was probably raising hell in it. Amara and I shall miss you.

The little wolf settled in, curled her tail around her paws, and sat in quiet vigil.

Thank you.

The noise and bustle of Northfall pulled at Kirain, both alluring and terrifying. So many unknown faces, untraveled paths, and unspoken expectations. She lingered at the outskirts, the weight of hesitation settling deep in her chest. It all felt too big, too unfamiliar. Instead of venturing in, she wandered the surrounding area, letting the crisp air fill her lungs, trying to ground herself in the scent of this new world.

How different was it from the last?

The question gnawed at her, the uncertainty of her purpose pressing in like an unseen force. She exhaled, watching her breath bloom into the frigid air before vanishing like a fleeting thought. But as the mist cleared, a sight stole her focus, a white wolf, curled into itself, barely a shape against the snow. Alone.

A pang of sorrow tightened in her chest. Carefully, she stepped closer, keeping her posture open, nonthreatening. She didn’t want to startle them.

"Are you okay?"

Her voice was warm, laced with quiet concern, her silver eyes searching for any sign of response.

All of the fur about Valeska's neck stood at attention at once, giving her the appearance of a startled porcupine. She froze on the spot as her mind struggled to reboot, having thought she was fully alone in this place - the sound of a stranger's voice was the last thing she expected.

With a wide, owlish stare, she turned to look.

A small, fine-boned she-wolf stood off to the side, her expression relaxed but curious as she looked back at the Priestess. Valeska struggled to swallow the lump in her throat as she fought the hammering of her own heart threatening to burst out of her chest.

Yes, she croaked. Hells. YES. I AM WELL.

That didn't sound well at all.

I mean - yes, I am fine, thank you, she said quickly, forcing the fluffed-out fur around her nape to settle. Just... missing an old friend. There is life after this, and I will see him again, but it makes the sting of his loss no less painful.

Valeska leaned forward and took a cursory sniff.

You do not smell of Northfall. You are new, here?