While Dawnbreak was still heavily laden with their collective grief, Vidarr had taken some time away from the packlands. He had been unable to find Eira or Ormr - which filled him with a deep and heavy sort of dread, too. From what he'd heard, Eira had been there, quite recently actually, but now? There was no trace of her. Ormr had apparently been gone for a long time. The viking snorted, trying to sort the thoughts out as they ran rampant through his skull.

He'd ended up further out - pointedly avoiding Winterscar for now. South was the river, and maybe it would be a place that he could think - but somewhere in the expanse of stark white snow that he heard the most beautiful song. It wasn't just the voice of one bird, instead, it was many - this sort of symphony of natural beauty that had him turning instead to try and investigate. Where would these birds find the joy in the dead of winter to sing that way?

Normally, most of them were gone to warmer climates, but these? Vidarr couldn't find the source directly. None hung overhead, and instead, when he found what felt was the source of the birds. Trees - brilliantly painted - looking otherworldly as they stood out against the surrounding alpine had to be the only place that they might sustain themselves. So Vidarr found himself drawn to the trees. When he was close enough he stood still, eyes closed for a moment as he just listened.