Low Spirits [OPEN!]

[Mousen Heath]

There was something of a festival going on at the moment. In Autumn the creatures of Bjorn would light lanterns and place them around their homes and on top of the paths. Little lights flickering as the snow fell around the burrows - it really was quite beautiful. There was such a silence to the snow, it threw a pale silk blanket over the world where the only sound was the slight rustling as you moved. The air was almost warm in a way, and the soft feeling of snow as it fell onto his ears and back was comforting. Some of his best memories centred around this place, many of those memories were in the snow. It was hard to escape the snow here as it tended to fall throughout most of the year, with exception of a few months during the summer where it tended to rain instead.

The thing with spirits, or atleast the elder spirits was that they tended to know when another one was encroaching on their territory, as it were. Oddin knew that Bjorn would already be able to sense that he was here... Despite the fact she definitely wasn't in the immediate vicinity. As he hopped through the village, the lantern on his antlers swung back and forth and a very light but distinctive clinking sound could be heard, after awhile he sighed; a mixture of relief and sorrow. Bjorn wasn't here, but thankfully neither was Fenris. The last time the buck had caught him this far north there'd been hell to pay.

Leaning against a large silverbirch tree, which was one of several that surrounded the village, the spirit sunk down into the snow a little. The lantern on his antlers flickered green, sending a vibrant reflection onto the snow. Part of him wondered if he just sat here, would he be covered with snow in the morning? A small crept up onto his face, for a moment entertaining the thought. The thought of a Oddin-snow jackalope was an entertaining one to say the least.