perhaps Samo

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At the break of day, the forest is quiet. Peaceful as the sun makes its slow crawl toward the heavens. Rays of gold pierce through leaves to paint a mosaic along the forest floor. It is the warmth of those rays Svalla awakes too.

She greets the morn with quiet strength and tranquility. Calm now, even as grief still weighs down her stomach, as she rose to depart from what's left of her people. Many still rest, curled together and healing. Eclus is left behind upon the rock they'd bedded upon.

The further she travels, the livelier the expanse becomes. Simple joys that she's hardly had the time to sit and admire, such as bird song so vivacious in harmony, or perhaps the clutter of squirrels leaping from tree to tree overhead.

Distantly, as she reaches the edge of the tree line where forest spills into a golden meadow, a herd of elk graze. Spring calves now summer teenagers, eating alongside their mothers. Their great stag—an old, weathered beast, sits at the helm with a watchful eye.

While the call of the hunt sings to the wildling, Svalla does not pursue quiet yet. Instead, she sits with her chin tilted toward the sky, and lets herself enjoy a moment of peace and quiet.

Samo watched the herd too.

He had hoped to surprise Elk Charm with a fresh carcass, but their muted-brown coats and long limbs blended in well with the forest. With a wolf’s eyes, it was all too easy to see them as trees that moved, antlers blending with the canopy above. And though he was strong, Samo did not think he could fell one of the great beasts alone. Perhaps a calf, or an injured cow—but he saw none yet.

What drew his attention more were the ruined columns he saw. Stone and brick, of human make, but more weathered and ancient than any he had ever seen. Ivy climbed up through an empty window frame, and he was suddenly struck by a frightening notion: that this was some place he had known, now passed by many lifetimes.

Samo tore his gaze away. He forced himself to look away from the ruins, to the herd instead, and continued to follow from a quiet distance.

When the beasts spilled into the clearing, however, he saw that another was waiting for them. A white she-wolf at the edge of the meadow, her head tilted up to the sky. Was she here to hunt? Could she be another of the caribou hunters?

Samo was uncertain, but he felt he owed it to Elk Charm to find out. He approached her slowly, head down and tail low, so as not to spook either her or the herd.

You’re here to hunt? Samo asked. Are you—Sharadoii?

A change in the wind brings the white raven a scent, before the man arrives to speak. With an inquisitive rumble, Svalla turns in her seat to watch his approach. He must have been watching the herd, too.

He speaks of a people unfamiliar to she. With a tilt of her head and a huff of a chuckle, her sharp eyes watch him. I do not know of this Sharadoii you speak of. I am Wildling, from the north. She speaks calmly, but proudly.

The bull elk's bugle rings in the distance. With patience, she keeps one ear turned in the herds direction. Perhaps she would hunt with this man, should he deem himself capable. He smells of another; a woman.

You come to hunt for your woman? She inquired, dappled withers ruffling with the breeze.