keeping it vague because i don't really know what's going on with them entering and stuff

It was too calm.

With all the delicacy of a sledgehammer, the little girl slapped her paw against the water, giggling to see the droplets fly and the ripples dance across the surface. That was Dagrún, the rioter, the peace-breaker, the one who could never bridle her tongue or stand a second of silence. She didn't allow the water to settle, either. When it appeared that things were beginning to quiet down, she slapped the water again and again. The lilting giggle seemed halfhearted today, however, strained like her mouth that she had contorted into some bitter line. Even now as her breath came raggedly, reluctantly from those flustering, failing lungs, Dagrún wondered why Mother had forbade her from swimming. "I'm not tired!" she whined to herself, smacking the churning water with that dramatic flare characteristic of those who were captives of youth and restlessness. But she was tired. Her sides heaved and her legs trembled, her sopping wet coat weighed heavy on her anemic frame.

"MOM," she called behind her, her tone rich with melodramatic yearning, "Puh-leaaaasae can I go swimming?" Biting her lip, she searched her mind for any reason or compromise that would appeal to her mother. "I...I'll come out the second I get tired!" That was unlikely. "And...and You can come in too! Like... if I pass out, it'll be alright cause you can drag me back!" Inwardly, Dagrún congratulated herself for being so very clever, not imagining that her mother could even think of denying her now. For good measure, though, Dag turned on the charm. Flicking her ears backward and pouting like a tragic beauty-queen, she whined once more, "PLEEEEEEEEEEEEASE!"

The pale ivory and silver she-wolf relished in the sunlight that stroked across her slender body as she languished upon a large fallen tree trunk. Her muzzle rested upon outstretched paws, while her tail flicked at the sound of a light buzzing – one of the first mosquitoes of the season, she imagined. Spring was, after all, upon them, and the days that grew warmer only hinted that summer was also right around the corner. It seemed strange to her at how quickly the seasons passed – Lif’s stomach would churn at the thought of winter once more, and how her daughter simply would not survive if they did not find a pack to join. Perhaps leaving had not been the best decision in the end..


Of course, the silence could only be enjoyed for so long, for soon the slapping of water echoed across the small clearing they had settled at. Blinking one orange eye open lazily, the mother regarded her child with bemusement, though she did not openly move. The noise was not welcome, but her daughter’s distraction from her worries was.


Of course, Dagrún had not been content enough to simply sit by and dip her paws in the water.. An echoing wail that cried out to her finally drew both of the she-wolf’s eyes open, and she regarded the pristine female before her with open scrutiny. “Why do you insist at pushing my buttons?” Her tone held a flicker of amusement, yet at the same time a note of seriousness. Dagrún had never been one to simply take an order.. whether it best for her or not.

"Because I looooove you mommy?" she crooned, delicately dragging her paw through the water and grinning impishly back at her stoic mother. Abruptly, Dagrún paused, though seeing as it was impossible for her to remain completely still, her foot continued to glide through the water in vague, gentle curves. Hmnnn. Her mother wasn't sitting too far from the waterside... Her deepening grin and gleeful eyes betrayed her devious thoughts almost immediately. Not yet... Biding her time, Dagrún continued to swirl the water with uncharacteristically subtle movements. If she could have whistled inconspicuously and given herself away, she damn well would have warbled a delightful tune.

"Mother?" she asked, her voice the lazy drawl of a temptress, "What are we doing here? I think it's really boring." Without warning, the little spitfire launched into a complaint she had been brooding on for quite some time. "I mean. Why can't we go back to Hunter's Rise? I had friends there. I was going to get married to the leader's son." That, however, was merely one of the delusions she had nursed during her time in Norwood Forest when she had suddenly discovered that boys were... were actually kind of cute once you looked past the cooties. Somehow she had managed to convince herself that the leader's son was hopelessly in love with her but regrettably shy and secretive about his feelings. Frustrated, her pseudo-figure-eight's forgotten, the white child slapped the water once more. Nobody understands me!

The playful words drew a sardonic snort from the pallid female, who stretched out upon her rock once more. Only the gentle stir of water from her daughter’s paws filtered the air for the moment, and the she-wolf reveled in the solitude. Of course, until her daughter began to peck at her again, much like a hen.


Lif raised her muzzle once more, about to elicit a rather strong sentence of words to firmly shut her daughter’s whimsical notions of their old pack though instead the pallid woman found herself biting her tongue. The very thought of Dagrún settling with a mate was everything the mother wanted – her beloved daughter to live a relatively normal and happy life. But she wouldn’t, and the worried mother wasn’t even sure her daughter could handle birth should she settle down – and yet Dagrún seemed either oblivious to her weakness and reality, or simply determined to live to her own expectations.


A low growl that seeped past her lips as her child slapped the water in a temper tantrum very befitting of her, the sound was cut at the realization they were no longer alone. Her fiery eyes fell upon the leisurely form of the ebony she-wolf, who even though appeared to be no threat, her sudden appearance alarmed the she-wolf, and her protective instinct caused her own lissome figure to push off the rock she had been lounging upon, her paws prowling toward her daughter. “Dagrún , út af vatni, nú,” she barked, her accent thickening as she spoke the language of her home. Her eyes shifted from the slender frame of her daughter to view the stranger once more, reassuring herself that there was no immediate danger to her pale child.

Just a little longer... The anticipation was killing her.

But just as she prepared to strike, her foreleg like a coiled viper trailing in the water, the breeze brought a strange scent to her. All at once she stopped, and for a single, crystalline moment she was perfectly still — there was someone else here, someone besides mother. That realization broke the spell, and suddenly her pale head snapped upwards to find a dark female who had come to drink from the waters of the lagoon. This was the first stranger the girl had seen in a long time, and it excited her. Her mother, though strong and beautiful, was an utter bore. Perhaps this wolf would provide her with the entertainment she so craved...

“Dagrún , út af vatni, nú,”

Oh, wait, that's right: cue mom, the cautious kill-joy.

With barely contained exasperation, the white spitfire did as she was told, clambering out of the water but taking her damn time about it. Dagrún would never outright disobey her mother — she had been raised better than that. That didn't mean she didn't have to let Lif know just how much like a slave she felt with every overemphasized thud of her paws to accent her displeasure. She was quiet, though: her mother would handle this. The little girl, though overjoyed to see an unfamiliar face, understood on some level that she could very well ruin her chances of getting to see any other familiar faces if she screwed up and misbehaved at any point during this encounter. Dagrún was on her best behavior.

“Nú,” she growled lowly again, as her pale daughter took her sweet time removing herself from the water and to the land. Lif’s gaze never drifted from the stranger, who seemed to realize her presence was making the formidable mother quite uncomfortable. The ivory female only relaxed slightly as the youth came to stand beside her, and the mother noted with relief that the dark stranger was giving them more than enough room.


Inhaling sharply at suddenly feeling extremely rude, the Eyjólfur lady cast her daughter a sideways glance before shifting her paws, maneuvering her lithe figure a pace closer to the other. “Excuse me,” she called, her ears twitching before preening forward. “Would you mind telling me about this place?” Of course, she had been to Relic Lore before.. but much had changed since her last visit, she had assumed.