There is a peculiar serenity about the world that they are about to set foot in; all of its life and its vigor snuffed from existence by the hold of Höðr. For all things there is a season.
Synchronized paws are set in motion adjacent to another, their black nails grinding against the ice capped surface of the snow as they moved atop before it collapsed beneath their weight. A familiar grumble broke the silence between them from one's maw and the black figure moved so that he was now jogging into the steps that the other had made. "Er það svo erfitt að gera þína eigin leið?" Huginn retorted at his brother's slugishness. "Hvers vegna að fara í gegnum baráttu þegar ég get verið betri en það, bróðir?" The other laughed as he replied in a rather cheeky manner. They continued onward in silence, Huginn not finding any use in bickering back and forth with his sibling over meager words. They were on the brink of breaching Moladion's borders and anticipation was rising with each step they put behind them.
"Hvað haldið þið að við munum gera þegar við komum?" He questioned, wanting to know if Muninn had anything in mind as of yet. They were sent for a particular reason - but that did not mean they could have no fun. He turned his head back to view his blue-eyed counterpart when he did not receive an immediate answer. Muninn is not paying attention, his eyes on the landscape rather than Huginn, but he is quick to realize he is being waited upon and looks forward to meet the glaring, red eyes of his brother in battle. "Hmm, gætum við ekki ræna?" The answer is replied with a deep laughter from Huginn as he turns back to keep his eyes on what lay ahead. No, they could not do such a thing by only the force of the two of them. Perhaps in a few years when their little adversary has grown up.. they may be capable of such a thing. If he succeeds in what task was given to him. But only time will tell the results of such a thing and the duo have given their prayers to Lord Odin for good fruits from their labor. Now, they must have patience.
They are easily approaching what appears to be a lake now, laden with a sheet of snow and ice. Had it not been for the scent upon the wind, they may have never seen the large white creature laying by its shore. "Líta á það sem við höfum fundið hér, Muninn.." He speaks devilishly, tossing his head toward the white wolf as they approached. "Hvað er nafn þitt, drengur?" Muninn moves from behind his brother now as he addresses the stranger, blue hued eyes intent just as his sibling's red ones are on the stagnant form before the water. "Kannski er hann dauður - þótt hann hafi ekki lyktina." Huginn chuckled as he stepped closer, looking down upon the pale face of the other.