Wapun Meadow cast by their grave-beseeming ornaments

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A soft chuckle escaped the confines of the northerner’s muzzle as Sif physically showed her happiness. For some reason — though he does not see her as a pup — that is what he is reminded of: an over-eager pup. Wardruna pauses, recoiling his head back slowly, gauging her reaction slowly as she recoils back. He reads her body language with his good eye: not willing to keep pressing if she begins to show signs of discomfort of fear of his ministrations. He is harmless: merely seeking to investigate, to mark her as his with his scent. Wardruna doesn’t anticipate being so territorial but he wants any males to know that their interest is not welcome: at least until he has the capabilities and the presence to protect her ( and essentially the others ) properly. For now, he must mark them with his scent and bid them to stay close but not too close to Easthollow’s borders. Soon, he would leave. Very soon at that, but first he has a few pieces of business left to sort out. Wardruna spends a bit more time in Sif’s presence before he parts from her, heading back towards Easthollow.

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