Miles

Erik woke in a foul mood. The nightmares that had plagued him for years had grown in intensity ever since the battle against the valkyries and the mysterious voice was getting louder.
Letting the chill wind outside the forge building finish waking him, he gathered his things. The sword made yesterday, still wrapped in its makeshift scabbard, still brought unease to the Jotun. The foul thing continued to whisper, the spirits within restless to be used in battle. With a shake of his head to be rid of the voices, he fixed the blade on his hip.
He saw Balar talking to the witch and let them be, they seemed to be talking about their new course and didn't want to interfere. He saw Miles sitting away from the group.
"Armored one, you haven't spoken since Balars offer. Do you consider finding your own way as the bandit and wolfrider did?"
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The warmth from the forge made Dyvia think of home, the laughter of the forgemasters as they hammered away, the shopkeepers trying to gain the eyes of passerby. The wind stole that warmth away for a moment, but that moment was all it took to bring her back to reality.
Erik's movements drew her attention, especially as he handled the blade. She should not have had the skill to make such a weapon, she was no pushover by any means, but she hadn't felt that much power from any weapon made by any one else. It was a thought that lingered in her mind as she made sure her things hadn't been moved.
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Kespin rolled over in his wolf skin blanket, he had been awake for hours, but enjoyed the soft pelt enough to stay bundled in it. With the others getting ready to move, he sat up and immediately opened his tome. Flipping through the pages, he sighed at the cryptic messages written within.
"What wind is blowing? And why is there a man above it all?"