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Siv was thankful her daughter was well behaved. Part of this likely came from the girl having just eaten, as food tended to quiet all children. It would do her no good if an over-eager child broke traditional laws and went charging across borders chasing who-knew-what. Dragur was not an ordinary child, though, and often displayed a stillness that some part of Siv found unsettling. Still, she loved her daughter fiercely—no one, not the Hearg, not the Gods, and certainly not the child’s father, would ever take her away.
It surprised her that the woman who appeared was accompanied by, of all things, a cat. She had seen cats before, and admired their pelts and hunting skills, but to see one walk with a wolf was new. Logically, she attributed this to training. Atheist or not, however, she recognized that control over an animal (especially a wild animal like a cat) was a sign of power. This woman, whoever she was, carried much with her. Siv took her in without looking into her eyes, and wondered if the various spirals meant something similar to the knotwork design she attributed to their own gods.
The way the woman held herself and her tone told Siv everything else she needed to know. Power, yes, but power of the worldly sort. She was high-ranking. “The name was not spoken,” Siv began, her voice soft and evenly toned. She knew the power of tongue, and used it well. “All I know is that this place holds great respect by those who inhabit it. I am a stranger here,” she added, though her behavior no doubt betrayed this. “Yet...your home calls to me,” the dark she-wolf went on, and then fell silent.