Silver Creek he is beloved and he is feared

kjalarr is used to creating feelings of unease in others but the coywolf before him does not show any signs of being perturbed. on the contrary, it seems to kjalarr like the more he talks, the more he fuels the coywolf's interest. in turn, the warborn isn't sure how he feels about that. "i already told you. a fight to the death. i lost most of my eyesight in my eye but he lost his life." so, all in all, kjalarr came out of the deal with the better end of it. "i wanted to lead his pack." kjalarr admits with a lofty shrug of his broad shoulders. as if usurping the leadership of a pack is a casual, everyday occurrence. in ragnar's world ...it is. leaders have to fight for their position unless they are universally feared. creating that type of influence and maintaining it was not easy. territories and packs were fought over monthly. it was how they culled out the weak leaders and the leaderless packs either dealt with the leadership upheaval, were absorbed or entirely disbanded. it was a cutthroat life and one that kjalarr took to quickly and greedily.

there an errant flick of kjalarr's ear, a rise of his scarred muzzle in indignation when the coywolf asks kjalarr if he wanted him to remove it. it is an almost hypocritical gesture as he'd considered carving it out himself from time to time. and now, ironically, he refuses the assistance. "no." kjalarr tells the coywolf firmly. though he can still kind of see out of it, it is essentially useless to him. yet, he has learned how to adapt and beyond that: it's his curse as much as it is a trophy; and he is slowly becoming a hoarder of physical trophies. war and strife scrawl upon his body as if it is a holy temple carved with runes and he is loathe to upset the balance by allowing someone to take one of them.