The world she entered was full of life, bright and hopeful. Solvi awoke, barely scared or worried, even though she was taken away from her rather large family. The yearling had always been more independent, strong willed and full of vigor. To her, this was just another test. Another adventure that called out to her like the gods from above. Looking around, Solvi noticed the vast blankets of grasses and other various plants throughout the valley.

Nearby mountaintops caught her multicolored eyes, seemingly beckoning her to come and explore them. But before she could do such a thing, her first priority is to get something to eat and drink, along with scouting out her new home with utmost precision. A new world called to her, practically begging her to explore every inch of it. In that moment, with the calm breeze in her fur, the young Valkyrie took off into the tundra.

---

gjalla moves along the spine of a low ridge with a careful step, drifting in a slow arc and cutting across higher ground where the air might carry better. it brings her the small things first—lichen, old meltwater, the faint iron-sour trace of something long dead. she lets them pass. waits.

eventually, the wind brings forth a newer thread, bright and untested. it cuts clean through the rest, sharp as struck flint and fresh as a daisy. gjalla stills, one forepaw suspended before it finds the ground, ears angling forward as the wind shifts again and fills her lungs.

her descent is measured, a careful unraveling from stone to slope, her body sliding between outcrops and sparse brush without sound. her path curves, kept to cover so that she might monitor the scent uninterrupted.

below, dry grass ripples. something moves within them—a streak of motion that, perhaps, does not yet know how loud it is.

her head lifts just enough to see over the crest of the swaying field, gaze narrowing beneath the shadow of her brow as the figure comes into shape between the shifting green and white—all limbs and momentum, color catching where the light finds her. a child of motion. of noise. gjalla’s lip pulls faintly at one corner.

Her swift journey through the frozen north wouldn't last for long. Long legs carried her athletic build over the grasses and rocky terrain, eye and nose keen to pick up on anything worth her while. Ultimately it was her eyes that picked up on someone in the distance. A large imposing creature with dark tones. Eyes so stern and focused, it nearly sent a chill down her spine.

However Solvi was no coward, raised to stand her ground despite her youth and lack of vast experience. Despite how alone she was, Solvi was ever the confident woman. Unafraid of anything except forever being by herself. But she was not going to show this to some stranger. Multi colored eyes gazed back at her, strong and firm. The rest of her, waiting for the other to make their move.

assuming this is near/almost on northwind summit's territory?

---

the yearling does not scatter immediately upon noticing her.

wind presses at her flank, dragging the long black of her coat in one direction while her body holds against it, unmoved. her head tilts a fraction, measuring. the distance between them stretches thin, a wire pulled taut across the field.

she steps down from the ridge, dry grass parting against her legs, whispering as it folds and springs back in her wake. there is tension set in the girl's eyes but strength in her stature. it is a good front to display. gjalla stops a few lengths off, angled, and her gaze drags slowly across the stranger's stance, then face, cataloging. younger, this one—unseasoned, but not skittish.

her ears tip forward, then still. you are almost creeping on claimed territory, girl. a loose greeting, however unwelcoming as it sounds.

The dark woman faced her head on, eyes of steel looking back at her with utmost regality. Solvi was almost taken aback, but she would hold her ground. Her large form came down from the rockier terrain, entering the grasslands like a lioness surveying her kingdom. It was awe inspiring, reminding Solvi of her mother. Yet somehow this stranger held something Yrsa never really did. Something that she would soon discover one way or another.

So this girl was near territory. Solvi studied the woman further, taking in her words with utmost care. Whose land lies before me, so that I may respect it and not tread. She wasn't a stupid girl, but she also wasn't a coward. And who calls it home? Another question to gauge this woman's temperament. Though she wondered if she was pressing too hard too fast.

this is so short im sorry ;-;

---

her gaze cuts sidelong toward the mountains looming beyond them, jutting her chin to the cliffs pointedly. it is mine. i am gjalla. she says. stormrift. it is my home.

a pause. the corner of her mouth twitches faintly. where is your home, girl?

The woman presented herself finally with a name, Gjalla of Stormrift. The mountains behind her became her home at some point, causing Solvi to step aside and not to tread on her lands. I am Solvi Deacondóttir. I am new to this world, woke up not too long ago and traveled here. She waited for some kind of response, still on guard for this woman might just send her packing. But there was indeed a quiet strength about her, an aura that spoke to her like nothing else. Would she take her in? Allow a peek inside her mind and inner workings? Solvi quietly wondered.

---

the girl yields the ground without being asked. it is a small movement, only a sidestep through the grass. the stalks hiss against the girl's legs as she clears the invisible line drawn between them. sensible.

gjalla turns her head to look at her fully once more, drifting over the rangy set of her frame and bright, searching eyes. solvi deacondóttir is not a name she recognizes, but it is spoken cleanly, without stammer. a good thing, that—proof she was not ashamed of the lineage she was born from.

if you seek only to pass through, keep south and the mountain will release you. but if you seek somewhere to anchor yourself… her eyes narrow slightly, studying the girl with renewed focus. stormrift's gates are open to the young.

Gjalla's focus and attention on her did not go unnoticed by Solvi. There was a very subtle change to her gaze, as if she had taken interest in the yearling. Then her voice pierced the silence, strong and full of vigor. There was an invitation at the end of it, one to join her pack of Stormrift. But should she go?

Tell me more of your Stormrift? What are your beliefs? Your ways of life? I must know the trail I walk upon before making the journey. Better not to jump first without thinking clearly.

Solvi hoped that this woman understood her point of view, though readied herself for instant rejection for any kind of weakness to be shown. The world was a cruel place, this she knew. But perhaps not all would close their hearts and doors to a young woman filled with so much potential. If only she could make someone proud.

---

the question is met with silence. for a breath, then another, her gaze remains fixed on solvi’s face, weighing her words. a smart girl, seeking information before she leaps headlong into a decision that may change her life.

her chin lifts a fraction, and she turns enough to glance toward the mountains standing watch behind her. jagged backs of stone. snow packed into their scars. stormrift was carved from peaks like those. a northern kingdom— she says at last. we were a hard people. enduring. we prize discipline above all. dutiful, but unified; her pale eyes return to solvi. none of us stand alone.

she continues. women lead, most often. we serve the goddess sivra, our dark lady. when one passes, she gives us valhalla and strings our souls to the stars so that we may watch over our loved ones at night.