「 Skill Point ― scout 」

His son was still missing, but the pack was thriving. It seemed that spring was luring new blood to the north with the warming temperatures. Stiil, the tundra looked like the icy beast that it always was. The only difference being the pushing of buds that now scattered through the thinner layers of snow. Tyr dared not venture too far inland and abandon his post but he did continue to search the wilderness for stray scents. His son, he'd hoped, would be one of them.

His nose grazed the surface of the snow, the scent of a mouse beneath tingling in his nose. He was uninterested for now, but perhaps a fox might come across the unlucky being later. This world was often unforgiving after all. Perhaps this little mouse might need to dig a little deeper in the snow if he was wishes to remain uncaught. The male slowed to a stop, lifting his head and casting his gaze across the open tundra. Rolling hills of white, mountains in the distance and not a soul in sight for as far as the eye could see.

He could smell prey, sure, but so far no carnivores were within his bounds.

skill: n/a
notes: n/a

---

Breath plumed from flared nostrils, she lay there, slumped and awkward. Long legs jutting in every direction, a front right tucked beneath her chest, the front left jutting out and half crooked at the bend. Rear legs kicked out to the side. Eyes blinked wildly as the smell of blood suddenly hit her as a stark reality set in ─ her blood. Against the white rolling fields Freydis was in a pool of her own blood. Wait...blood. How could this be. Her; daughter of Eikthyrnir did not bleed. The girl snorted, violently pushing the air through her nose in panicked defiance as the pain began to settle in as consciousness sunk its teeth into her. 

Wild wide eyes looked to scan over her own body, seeking the source of her wound. She was tucked up against a patch of sole trees among the meadows, and apparently had collided with them in whatever fashion she ended up here. One of her rear legs was skewered, a large branch jutting through the flesh and muscle low on her left thigh. The woman blinked, staring in disbelief at the tragic injury splinters spiking out in every direction before casting her pale eyes out against the empty and vast world before her. At least she wasn't actively bleeding, the branch keeping her apparently now vital fluids inside. But utterly alone ─ and knowing she might summon something unfavorable she made a decision on pure chance.

She would part her lips and make a piercing bugle sending the sound as far as she could.

❝ speech ❞

「 Skill Point ― scout 」

The scent of deer was suddenly stricken with blood. Not enough to make his mouth water, but enough to trigger every other predatory sense within him. Curious as the cat some might say, but even he knew that did not often end well for the feline in question. Tyr, however, could not push away the intrigue. Perhaps it was a morsel he could take back to his children, to the pack. Easy pickings, maybe.

So, with nothing better to do, he began to follow the scent across the horizon. The god trotted at first before slowing as bushes parted into a frozen meadow expanse. The scent was stronger here, but from the looks of things, it came from the copse of trees in the near distance. It was just as the norseman began to venture into the open that the loud bellowing call echoed in his skull.

The sound made Tyr pause, the distress of the cry setting his ears flat to his head. No doubt a beast in pain, an opportunity for himself but a sorry end for the creature in question. He hasted his approach.

As his eyes adjusted to the shade of the trees, he finally sighted them. A doe - a caribou of a fair size skewered by a branch. An unlucky outcome for such a magnificent creature. That pelt of theirs was strange and yet so beautiful, too. But didn't Caribou normally travel in herds? Why were there no other scents aside from her own in the area? He'd have noticed the others at least; some kind of trace would have been left if they'd moved on without her.

My, what do we have here? Aren't you a beauty... he queried with his accent thick on his whispering tongue. He doubted the beast would understand him, and at that moment, he was simply admiring them. He made no move to help, nor did he approach any closer in case the animal began to freak out.

skill: n/a
notes: n/a

---

They came.

Of course they did, she beckoned the hounds of hell to her sacrifice.

The caribou snorted, breathing heavy but shallow through her pain and blood loss, her mortality. A gut churning reminder with every strained breath. She scented him long before his approach, nostrils flaring to intake the wolfs scent ─ noting the hint of something ancient, and familiar. "My, what do we have here? Aren't you a beauty..." pale eyes snapped upward, locking upon his own and as she met his gaze there was a pull, the familiarity growing only stronger but Freydís' concern was on one subject and one alone right now.

❝ Fallegur ég mun vera kyrr með hjarta þitt stungið á eina af tindunum mínum, úlfur (Beautiful I will be still with your heart staked on one of my tines, wolf) ❞ she spat harshly. Knowing she has every odd stacked against her, but also knowing she will not die without a fight. She would take the bastard with her if she must go down today. With what felt like every ounce of her strength the caribou pushed a leg beneath her chest, propping herself up as she lifted her head high and refused to break his eye contact.


❝ speech ❞

「 Skill Point ― n/a 」

The creature speaks! he smirked, laughing aloud before looking at the Caribou anew. He circled then, eyeing the injured animal with curiosity. It was not like the mind-numbing animals that roamed, this one had a conscience. It seemed to speak his language, too, a northern soul within the bounds of a new body.

You are like me, spirit walker. You are not of this world, no? another twist of his lips, this time a smile. His eyes raked over the creature's body, wondering how to free the wounded leg without causing it to bleed out. Finally, he settled close enough to see, but far enough away to avoid the prongs of the doe's antlers. No need for him to die today either.

He had shit to do.

Hear now, we need to pull you free, but you might die when we do. straight to the point, he didn't sugar coat his words. [/q]

"The creature speaks!" his laughter was met only with a glare, those ghostly eyes narrowing tracing him as he circles her. "You are like me, spirit walker. You are not of this world, no?" there is a moment, her eyes widen slipping away from the judgement and she studies him a bit closer now. Looking for any semblance of recognition she can grasp. ❝ No ─ I am not. ❞ she answers simply. But introductions can wait until she is able to stand.

"Hear now, we need to pull you free, but you might die when we do." ❝ Death is not the worst thing, ❞ she hums, besides; she had already died had she not? Meeting his gaze then, ❝ Do it. ❞ she instructs

─
❝ speech ❞