A cool wind whipped about the small group of four, whistling through the sparse, spindly redwood tops and buffeting the silent, occasional meander of powder-fresh snow; if only even for the briefest of seconds. A mane once roached traditionally into a distinguished, dramatically two-toned crescent was well grown now, loose, free, flapping with wild vigour in the blast of crisp, invigorating icy air. Hildegunn lifted broad nostrils high to sample that marvellously familiar flavour, sucking deeply until the expanding lungs within her ribbed chest ached - there she clenched yellowing teeth and held tight the feeling, before releasing again moments later with a heavy, rattling sigh. She could only pray to Skadi and Eostre now for clemency, for the salvation of those left to starve on the forsaken island, Skjoervø, her home; worry plagued her conscience constantly, even if she found herself able to distract her mind for much of the time. The eccentric, rather wordy group she had found herself standing with served that purpose perfectly.

The mother-tongue was alien, confusing, and reading the language of their bodies was made more difficult by the dreary pitch of the icy night, but the sturdy young horse followed the conversation’s progression the best she could.

The youngest among them was swift to shed the youthful confidence and warmth with which she had initially approached - the soft smile dressing her pale, night-dimmed lips sank with the lead weight of discouragement, and her gaze (vibrant eyes, one blue and one green) looked to switch between the three faces before her. The disappointment seemed to the watching, attentive Fjord, to manifest throughout her feminine tone as she again spoke, chin bouncing and strange bird-wings spreading grandly into the frigid darkness, either side of her slender, graceful, speckled form. Hildegunn was an affable creature, raised with a sound moral compass, and it occurred to her quickly that the girl had been more or less wounded by the reaction of (at least) the outlandish stallion; he had been terse in his apparent preoccupation. Instant concern engulfed her, and the feeling leaked quickly into her own mild expression. What was the  young creature’s name? Aheshke, she thought to proffer (an olive branch, perhaps), but the exotic sound of the word only rumbled clumsily upon an uncomfortable tongue. All too soon - much faster indeed than thoughts could be aligned properly, the winged girl turned from them and took swift leave towards a glittering sky.

It was an unfortunate withdrawal indeed, trailed by the low grumble of masculine retort.

Chocolate pools narrowed carefully as they swung by the feather-flanked beast along the way to the blue eyes of the black - she seemed far friendlier, a safer destination for the multitude of questions still hovering about the traveller’s wearying mind. As they came upon their target, the movement of a white socked limb below drew momentary distraction while the soft hum of one, easy syllable brushed her forward-tipped ears. Vu? It was a far-cry easier to repeat than the afore mentioned Ake…Aske…Ashekte… Her throat rumbled gently in bothered response to the undeniable language-barrier. Still, Hildegunn was confident that Vu meant in fact, the title of the raven lass. She smiled amiably, answering introduction stalled by the stallion who then again began to speak.

Anew the harsh wind stirred, unable to penetrate though, the thick, weather-safe blanket the traveller wore. Her skull sank briefly and charcoal-tinted lips rummaged through slush for any hint of lurking spring; alas the good-season slept on soundly.

Furred ears, ever erect, seek out the next thread of words to break the awkward silence - the eerie stillness which had strangely settled immediately after the bird’s exit. Stark eyes lingered briefly on the two year old, en route to the male; there was a thoughtfulness about them, not so equally shared with he, she thought. Hildegunn received it eagerly, licking wet lips and tossing her head gently. "Hil-di-gahn…" the girl’s unusual drawl offered, a name at least. Nose drifted nearer the other mare, slowly, nonchalantly, and she sought to confirm "Vu", the name, before murky eyes sought the same from the painted grouch. This was surely progress, and her skin flinched vigorously with hope renewed.