At around five months old (and maybe a few days), it was difficult to keep Kvitrafn contained to a single space. She moved like the wind, flighty and bouncy, as her paws carried her over ridges and boulders and through the intricate tunnel system within Northfall’s mountain. Although she was still quite young, it was as if the girl had suddenly grown wings—and off she flew to wherever or whomever her heart desired.

Hard to catch, that one.

Much was the same when Kvitrafn heard a howl come from their borders, piquing her interest almost immediately as she twisted on her heels in that direction.

Friends? Allies? Enemies?

Her heart all but soared with the prospect of something new!

How exciting!

The girl bounded forward toward their borders, a smile on her lips and her beautiful white raven feather (dappled in shades of black, grey, and white) carefully tucked into her fur as the princess of the North sought out their guests.