Exploring was something that she had learned to enjoy during her life as a lone wolf. Mountains were landscapes she avoided mostly, yet today the slight ivory girl felt the desire to trek up the wondrous heights and catch a glimpse of the large valley of Relic Lore below; she imagined it would be quite a beautiful sight.


She moved with graceful ease – after all, she had been born upon a dangerous mountain and thrived upon it until she had decided to create a life of her own. Every so often the she-wolf would shoot a glance behind her shoulder, her cinnamon eyes trailing to the scenery below in mild appreciation. The climb would certainly be worth it, and the cooling temperatures as she moved higher stirred a bought of nostalgia to her heart.


She had more or less lost track of time, though it mattered little. She had no one to go home to. The sun was beginning to settle in the horizon and just as the arctic hybrid was beginning to seek a place to rest for the night, the scent of blood pooled her senses. Blinking, her gaze swung down to the bloodied pawprints, causing her wolfish brows to arch in curiosity. While she wasn’t necessarily a social wolf, she did find her lifestyle lonely. With that, the ivory wolf swept forward, following the trail of blood. The wolf was not far, and coming to a ledge, her eyes fell upon him not too far off. Swinging her muzzle slightly lower to show she meant no harm, the female gave a low woof to announce her presence.

As the male lifted his muzzle up to her, Lifdis found her cinnamon eyes tracing features of stark ivory against a handsome coat of silver. Her lips curled to a coy smile as the male finally noticed her presence, and to his greeting, the she-wolf bowed her muzzle lightly in return. He was separated from her to the rocky and dangerous ledges, and while she had grew up upon the frightful mountain, she did not know the contours and crevices of this one.


“Are you hurt?” Her eyes strayed back to the direction she had come from, though she could no longer see the bloodied paw prints. He must have taken a different path than she had. She was no healer by any regard, but that did not mean she would walk past a soul in need without offering any support or help.

Her thoughts had strayed on how she could gap the distance between them, just as he had. But upon his insistence that he was fine, her lithe figure relaxed lightly, and the pale she-wolf gave a small nod of understanding. Without the need to find a way over to the ledge the silver male stood on and help his cut paw, the she-wolf settled easily to her haunches, perfectly content at having a small conversation with a treacherous mountain ledge between them.


“It’s quite the mountain,” she agreed, her cinnamon eyes drifted from him momentarily to take a quick glance around. A small smile pressed to her lips now. “I was born on a mountain,” she spoke, if only to keep the topic light. “But this one is very different from my home.”

The conversation became more friendly and open – a very reason that stirred a soft smile to the lips of the pale she-wolf. She merely nodded in answer to his question, and before wondering if it was rude or not, the rogue female slid herself further to the ground, stretching her ivory belly to the slopes of the mountain.


Canting her silver-speckled muzzle lightly, the female offered a graceful shrug to his next question. “Ragnarök Peak was a mountain claimed by my father. He was captured from the north and taken to this land.” She paused momentarily, trying to keep the topic on track. “It was a large and cold mountain, but this one is much larger.. and the slopes seem rockier and more unpredictable than my home.” Her light accent was more dominant the faster she spoke, but she seemed to take no notice as her companion stated his preference to land. “I love forests, myself,” she mused aloud, her eyes trailing over him once more.

As she settled comfortably upon the rocky ground, the she-wolf took a moment to smooth a few stray hairs along the length of her forepaws. She could hear the murmur of her companion as he repeated the name of her home in such a way that caused a small smile to lift at her muzzle. Glancing up to the handsome wolf, her cinnamon eyes roamed across him for only a split second, once more taking in the uniqueness of his pelt.


His comment of his birthplace did not stir a comment from her, but she did give a nod to allow him to know she had heard him. It would seem they had very different environments when they were younger. At his question to her name, the pale dove gave a quick blink of surprise. She hadn’t introduced herself yet! “Oh!” She straightened her figure then, feeling slightly admonished. “Forgive my rudeness. I am Lífdís Eyjólfur. And yourself?”