He didn't know what deliberation had found audience in her mind when she reacted to his clasping hand in her precious redlight hair. He lingered on the image of her hands on his, which was a perfect depiction of the difference between them, with her alabaster digits, two sets, prying and failing around his grip. Other than the symbolic and reflexive protest, it was easy for him to coat her in icy water. He was quite proud of his work when she came gasping through the surface, and clung to the stallion for comfort.<br/><br/>She impressed him thoroughly by keeping away from what must have been an inviting heat. He didn't think the horse's head gave her much reprieve from the chill. No words, just dead set determination fueled by hatred. Beautiful little seething thing. Varga startled to life when the fires made the trees orange. He petted her cold hair, that had at least seen most of the river drained from itself, though not dried. Raud leaned back proudly, so they could see her well, her skin pulled tight over her freezing muscles and the freckles run through with bumps. She even had a different texture now, exterior stiff and cool.<br/><br/>"This is all that was left." he said apologetically at her state. She was pretty enough, though obviously not a conventional war animal, but he didn't owe her any correct introduction, and didn't owe anyone at the camp the truth of his assessment of her either. Their new leader plucked his prize from the bareback horse and propped her to himself like she was a child, her legs around him, his hand under her to keep her up. If she foolishly though her new vantage was a good one to strike from, either with teeth or fists, she'd be sorely taught the opposite with an echoing backhand, much like the one he'd introduced to her wolf form. It was a famous detail that wolves were weaker in human shape.<br/><br/>There was smoke from a tent, the largest one, and when they came in a kettle was boiling with dark food, and bread was laid by the fur close to it. He let her go without even bothering to close the slit in the hide though which they'd entered. Orange glow, kinder than the light that had crackled and roared around her home, pooled on all the surfaces and made shadows in all the crevices. Perhaps it looked as though she was trapped with a beast, in here, and not the opposite with the shaded triangles under his eyes in his face painted with black and red.<br/><br/>Eventually he sat down, tunic and leather torso thrown. The soot was running from his neck, lined by crusted blood. It stressed his chest's protrusion and helped deepen the lines of his drawn out physique. Egil would not have a weak son, even though Raud had started out gangly, and had made the boy war when others celebrated. Raud did not plan on wasting his gifts, but trusted the base of his strength to be with him for life, so he wasn't going to keep up the regiment from now on.<br/><br/>Soon a bowl found its way into his lap, steaming like he'd plucked a bonfire into the vessel, but when he scooped bread and caught dripping meat, it would appear there was culinary treasure in the wooden half sphere, instead. He patted the side of the bowl and looked at her, wherever she stood. It was half invite and order. The crumbs from the bed rained down through the steam when he took his first bite, eyes an her, waiting. He seemed casual for someone who was going to tame the world with fire.