Why was she here? Rúna was finally enjoying the warmth of spring, the herbs that returned after thaw. And yet, she found herself... here. At the top of some mountain, her chest heaving with aching breaths, a bitter, odd-tasting film coating her tongue. Her blue eyes watered against the viscerally blustering wind, her skin whipped raw beneath her coat from its harsh beating against her body.

At least, she wasn't alone—so if she was crazy, she wasn't the only one. A hoarse cough rumbled in her throat as she urged her body forward, squinting against the gales, towards the soft violet glow up ahead. Was Murdoch still nearby...? She was tempted to check, yet she couldn't pry her eyes away from the luminous burrow up ahead. 'Inside. With haste.' Her ears perked forward at the familiar response—ah. She had met that wolf before.

And the other familiar face. Last seen in a boisterous windstorm, much like this one. Standing a few strides away—not far enough away. A bubble of resentment rose in her chest, but she suppressed it. This was the last place that would need an argument.

She cast Sólúlfur a wary glance, her nostrils twitching against the sour-smelling snow. Yet, Rúna didn't need to be told twice. Heart beating in her throat, she ducked her head and slipped into tight space.