The pointed wolfess stood at the edge of the forest just before the village. As dusk grew near the small cottages were cast in warm light and gentle shadows, stirring a strange feeling of home in her heart. It seemed that she had come a long way from home, leaving it far across the sea, only to return to it in this new land. But she felt no disappointment. She had begun to fear the strangeness of this new place, afraid that it would cause her to drift until she lost herself completely. Yet, by Odin's graces she stopped here.



Lynx had hidden in the forest since early afternoon. She was trying her good luck in lingering unannounced by the territory border for so long. There would be trouble if she did not make her presence known soon, and the warmth she felt for this place would slip from her grasp. The wanderlust that had driven her across the ocean was gone, leaving her instead with the desire to rest and heal from her journey. Anxiously, the snowy woman adjusted the leather strap that held her fiddle to her back and emerged from the woods.



She stood only a few footsteps from the forest's shadow as she lifted her muzzle and called to the villagers. When the quiet song faded into the twilight, her unease went with it. Holding her fiddle's strap like the hand of a friend, Lynx lowered her head and gazed toward the cottages with pale eyes.

The sun departed. Immediately the color left the sky, replaced by winking silver stars. But the sky was still slate gray, and Lynx was sure she would be found before night closed in. Sure enough, not half an hour had passed before a hulking figure approached from the depths of the territory. The tattoed woman's eyes widened in shock. She had seen few canines as massive as the speckled man, all in the populated coastline of her homeland, but meeting a giant like him in such a small village seemed somehow unlikely. Lynx was impressed.



Despite his weapons and his size, the Great Dane was more polite than intimidating when he spoke to her. She quickly respected his dominance, lowering her ears and tail just as Lotty had once taught her. Lynx wore a small, friendly smile as she tilted her muzzle in return.



"Pleasure to meet you, sir. I am Lynx de Macian." she spoke in a soft, Norwegian voice. After giving her name, the pale girl fell silent, suddenly uncertain of how to communicate what she wanted. Her heart beat against her ribs, but what did she have to fear? Inhaling quietly, Lynx grasped the strap more firmly, a gesture that would always have a calming effect on her. "... I've come a long way. But my journey is over, and I wish for a new home." When she finished, the fiddler said a prayer to herself, asking the gods for the wisdom to show her best to the huge dog, and Vinatta.

The man asked about her homeland, and for a second Lynx returned there. So many times during the day, the girl imagined Norse mountain spires covered in opalescent snow, far northern glaciers, and glittering emerald Aurora Borealis. Norway was too beautiful to ever forget.



Lynx blinked her memories away. I come from Norway. My ship arrived a few days ago. I considered traveling further west, but your home here... I like it, she explained quietly, her gaze briefly sweeping the village in the background.



Before even leaving her family, Lynx had anticipated the questions she would be asked whenever she sought acceptance into a new home. Still, the pale wolfess worried that her skills wouldn't be adequate. But Lotty had always assured her that they were. Apparently, the old woman had seen many wanderers accepted who were far less skilled than the tattooed girl, and while Lynx remained unsure of herself, she had no choice but to believe her aunt.



Well... I play the fiddle, she warmly began, absently gesturing to the instrument that rested on her broad shoulders. I can entertain with my music. This she said with a confident smile and a small tilt of her head. Yes, she could entertain. More than once she had lead cheerful gatherings with her music, and her fiddle had brought some interest to the sometimes dull ship ride across the great sea. And I fight with a mace, like yours. She looked pointedly at the dog's largest weapon. Blunt fighting was a skill her father had taught her. The woman was powerful enough to cause severe damage with a mace, although she wasn't particularly fond of fighting. Actually, she lacked a weapon now because she had traded hers for horsehairs before boarding the ship. She could always fight without a weapon, but she could not play a fiddle without bowstrings.

Lynx was a little embarrassed for letting her thoughts wander so noticeably. Perhaps now that she had found what would be her second home, the changes she would have to face were becoming real to her. But the speckled man did not seem irritated with her, and she found comfort in knowing that he had also come from far away. She wasn't the first adjust to this new country from a more distant one.



"Thank you, Fritz," the fiddler replied. "I would like that." Although she didn't like to fight, Lynx couldn't deny the offer to strengthen her skills, and after all, sparring was fun. She could see an interesting match between herself and the Great Dane, who towered over her.


After Fritz had called to the leader in a harsh dog-bark, the pale woman swept a claw upward to indicate his mace. "Where might I find a weapon?"