Stone Circle the rage of mountains when they tremble

this seems like a good place to wrap this thread up. feel free to either reply once more or archive as is. :-)

Wardruna accepts Valette’s praise with a terse nod but does not truly accept it: he did little. Corralling did not require much skill and even then he did not get out of it unscathed. The shallow wound on his cheek smarts and the sting lingers. For the moment this is what Wardruna focuses upon as Valette calls for Noma. The sharp, pinpricks of pain in his cheek: heightened when the cool breeze touches upon the split flesh, the feeling of the slow seep of blood congealing the fur in that general vicinity of his cheek to mat. Pain is a good distraction and he stares off in the distance even when he hears Noma approach them. He played his part in the hunt but he is angry that he could not do more. His rehabilitation was too slow …or perhaps the northerner was simply too impatient. Nevertheless he feels an increase in annoyance and loathing when someone provides Noma with something he cannot. That burns worse than any wound could, and he broods in it, choosing to hang back from the women and keep his distance pretending as if they are not even there.

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