((NOT FINISHED))

[center][b]The Forest and the Farm[/b][/center]

Frija scoffed as she held her wood in her arms, trudging through half melted snow. The Great Janirarl Asgierr make a [i]woman[/i] clasp forearms to initiate a contract? Yeah right. If she took up his arm, he sooner drag her to town for violating the law than honor such a thing. Women couldn't hold contracts, according to the law. Same as they couldn't hold lands or even enter councils. So he truly did want to set traps to get her out of the way, huh? Probably to get to her father and have him proceed in giving up their land...their home... His glare wouldn't scare her. The God of Death scared her more. And she had been close to meeting that somber God more than once. 

He could stand above her all her liked, but she would't fall for his tricks and she would let her pride sentence her to death. She was a strong woman, yes, but she knew the law. And where the law stood on what role women played. As much as she thought it ridiculous, law was law. Her would just have to wait for her father to die before he took their strong hold farm. Her fingers clenched at the wood in her arms and she swallowed hard. She stopped and looked down at her gloved hands. So...she'd really have to get married before that happened in order to keep her home, wouldn't she? Clenching her eyes shut, she shook her head, blood red hair slashing into the morbid greys of the forest. No, she'd figure out the answer to that problem later. Not...not right now.

"Honor holds nothing when you face the blade of an executioner..." she murmured to herself, "Better to bend to the law than to die...because of some farce. I'd rather be seen as a savage and stay alive, than be seen as 'honorable' and die." Letting out a sigh, she started marching home once more. "Men make bargains," she said plainly, speaking more as if lecturing herself, "For a woman to do such violates the law and is punishable by death. And I will not be mocked simply because I was not born a man." She bit the inside of her cheek, glaring forwards. The wind was picking up and the sting of it against her skin was keeping her alert and out of angry thoughts. Rational survival always trumped frivolous pride. And she no longer had the luxury of frivolity.

What did mister high-on-his-horse know of how they lived? He'd been born into Janirarl living, just as she had been born into her lifestyle. It wasn't something that was concurred, but was something that could be worsened. What was honor among the starving? What was respect when facing Raskalarn raids? He was too optimistic and took them lightly. Muttering and grumbling under her breath, she finally made it home. "...The pompous... 'I'll send a carriage'," she mocked in a high voice filled with disgust as she set out the wood, "...That figgin'... 'I'll visit as many times as I like and make you cook as many times as I feel like it' ...blood-bearing tooth rotting pig..."

"Someone sounds out of sorts," a rough male voice smirked. Frija whirled around, cursing under her breath, holding her axe at the ready.

"Kon'Ira," she bit out, glaring at a man with beastly qualities, including masculine pelts as clothes instead of cloth and blue face paint, "Wrong season. Trying stealing from us once we bring in crops. You might find it more sensible."

"Oh, don't be that way," Kno'Ira sneered, gesturing around him, "It's just me, unarmed, I swear. Actually I saw a horse ride off not to long ago. Though I might see what's up."

"'What's up' huh?" Frjia narrowed her eyes, "Cute. Now tell me what you want. It's cold out here."

"Fine, fine, Bear Heart," the Rskalarn crossed his arms, grinning widely, "Just letting you know that out little visits might get a bit more... rough," he reached out and twirled a red lock around his finger, "That is if you seemed to be getting to friendly with the Janirarl." 

"Real funny, coming from you," she smacked his hand away. Then as quick as a viper she struck a hard blow to his stomach before using her large boot to send him to the ground. "Get out of here before I hack of a limb," she growled at the gasping man with red hair in front of her. Standing at the ready, she watched as he slowly regained his breath and stood up, still gasping.

"Just thought I'd warn you," he gritted out, "As your brother." He let out an annoyed grunt before hurrying off. Frija scoffed and fixed her hair.

"I don't have a brother any more," she mumbled to herself before going back inside. Something told her things were going to get a lot less tranquil real soon.

[center][b]Rskalarn Blood Lust[/b][/center]

It was the Alpha Hakari who seemed to her the oddest of them all, but the Invisible People had always been the most mysterious of all tribes. They were so close at being Southern Rskalarn, that Ur'Sula often wondered whether or not the Southern tribes might understand them more. While the male Alphas often tried to test tribes with female Alphas, Ur'Sula knew better than to stick her hands into a viper nest while out knowing the cure to the venom. She'd much rather have the mysterious people be closer to allies than to make them an enemy, as she was sure most tribes present at the Gathering were seen by Hakari.

Fear? No, more like respect. Ur'Sula was always one to take over a weak tribe, but not with knowing for sure she would win. It was why she was undefeated. Because she chose her battles wisely. Her brother on the other hand... Well, she sort of wondered if he didn't have an Invisible People viper bite on him somewhere. The tribe's alpha proved herself to be most intimidating for sure. The ice colored eyes of the strongest female Alpha bore down on the most mysterious female Alpha as she seemed to called into a trance by the Gods. 

But she spoke of things Ur'Sula seemed to smirk in knowing at. A woman would be his end indeed. It was either by her blade, or even Hakari's, that would end him. The Princess? Ur'Sula wanted to laugh. What weak willed Princess could stand up to such a task? She wasn't well versed in the South or their people, but she knew Janirarl women of the North pretty well. They were women shackled by the laws and their men. Weak. Laughable.

But even as the other female Alpha stood, the other Alphas grew silent. It seemed they had just a stroke of fear for the woman. Ur'Sula grinned behind her hand. Whoever Baku was, she praised their influence. Fear tactics like that where always a welcome sight. It helped the female Alphas gain leverage. With a stomp of her hard boot and a clap of her hands, she grinned wolfishly at the men around her.

"That ends our Gathering," she put up a hand when they moved to protest, "We have a King to hunt. All tribes should move out." The Rskalarn woman grinned, the shadows drawing over her face in dangerous ways, her eyes lit by the fire, glowing much a kin to an actual wolf's eyes. "We follow the Northern King, surround him on the third day of his stopping, he shall be no more and the Rskalarn shall finally have power to live as freemen." She turned on her heel and strode from the hut, marching out to meet her tribe to command them to ready for travel.