Stone Circle hvað er þetta, hvað er þetta?

Today, the Kvarsheim children enter their fourth week of life. Their little legs grow stronger, their eyes brighter, with milkteeth growing in; and Astrid, the little ball of spunk she was, had made the executive decision to slip away from the den when no one else seemed to be looking.
Out into the open reeds and wildflowers, mid-summer rays of sunshine keeping her warm as she toddles in the direction of the Seer Stones. Except she didn't know that's where she was headed.
Móðir and Faðir must be so proud that their little girl is out on her own! An intrepid explorer in the making, indeed! Not that she particularly cared what they thought. Even if they had tried to forbid her, scold her; she would not have listened. No, no, she was her own person, and that dark and dingy den was much too small for her now!
So farther out into the open she goes, more and more confident, little tail raised proudly as if to say, no one can stop me now!

It didn't take long for Gunnar to realize his daughter was missing. And with a snort he followed after her. It was fairly easy to find her. She wobbled and meandered no real intent.

He stayed a ways behind moatly watching. He had no qualms to her moving about feely as long as he could keep an eye on her.

So he followed behind her jaunty step quiet and observant.

Astrid wasn't dumb.
She had a nose, perhaps much to her Faðir's dismay. While trudging haplessly through the wildgrass, she'd caught wind of him. Oh, the audacity! This was her time!
She swivels on fat little feet, heels dug into the ground as she comes to a halt. She squints. There, a few yards off, she can see him — oh, he thinks he's slick, doesn't he? He's waiting to snatch her and bring her back to the den!
Her lips curl back into a little gummy growl, a sourness to her pudgy, freckled face. No!

Skáld slipped naturally into the role of big brother. He visited often, bringing small meals he’d managed to catch that he could spare for Taktuq, and had begun to bring sticks for the children. He found it easier to hunt for toya than for food, but knew that both were important.

He was carrying one when he saw young Astrid out for a walk, followed at a distance by her father. He saw her whirl and shout indignantly. He paused, for a moment, before he sprang between the two of them with bounding steps. 

”Run, Astrid! I will hold him off!” He said, voice lightly muffled by the stick he carried, before he dropped into a playbow before Gunnar and growled merrily.

Astrid was such a disagreeable baby sometimes. But it made Gunnar smile. It meant she was strong of spirit. Even if she sometimes hurt his feelings, she didn't mean it and she didn't know better, but it was still hard sometimes. Especially given he wasn't sure how long he had to give her, but she didn't know that. Nor would he let her know it.

Skald was a natural at the big brother thing. He chuckled when his adopted son bent into a play bow.

Don't let her get out of our borders he whispered it so quietly she wouldn't here.

But then he bowed his old body into a play bow. A smile on his face, his tail wagging. He yipped like a puppy and pranced for a minute. His broken ear quivering.

She'd been all too prepared to go on the defense when a big russet shape forms in front of her. She pauses, dumbfounded, before she realizes — it's Skáld!
JÁ!! her little face suddenly alight with glee, a change all too sudden given her previous display of contempt. Now, she didn't want to run off — she wanted to play!
Náðu honum! She hurtles her chubby little body straight for Skáld's hind leg, puppy teeth gnashing for his heels. In her mind's eye, he is her trusty steed and she is a great warrior empress, and Faðir is a big, scary bear! She leaps headfirst into battle, yapping at the top of her high-pitched lungs, darting to and fro and enticing papa to just try to bring her down!

A faint nod was given- just slight enough so Gunnar would know that Skáld would not let the child out of sight, let alone across the borders. His siblings would be safe with him, and he would step up his patrolling in the coming days just to make sure that no harm came their way, and that they didn't wander toward it, either. 

Boldly, Astrid bounded toward him now, jabbing her little fangs into his ankle while she commanded him to rush forward, spurred on by her nips. Of course, having very little experience in an actual confrontation, Skáld neither knew how exactly to go about approaching Gunnar, nor was he certain that he wanted to. He was in no way a match for the man's size, but he knew Gunnar's movement had begun to slow, and that his joints had begun to show his age. The last thing Skáld wanted to do was throw Gunnar's back out!

Still- he had to do something! So he bounded toward Gunnar, nipping at the air dramatically, without any earnest attempts of even touching the man he so revered.

A low growl lit up the back of Gunnar's throat and a gleam lit up his old eyes. He was a viking after all even if he no longer acted with the hot blood of youth.

A push into Skáld and his space hoping to teach while playing. Low and feint he pressed to the right and then snapped gently to the left.

A paw pushed towards Astrid. Mindful of where his limbs were in proportion to his baby daughter.

I'm just going to tidy a nice conclusion onto this <3

The curly-coated boy paused for a moment when he heard the depth of Gunnar's voice, vibrating with a growl. The glimmer of kindness in his eyes was there, as always, so his playfulness was renewed knowing that Gunnar would still go easy on him. 

And while Skáld lacked both the known-how and the coordination to ever face up against a decorated veteran like Gunnar, their play would go on for hours- or however long it took for both Skáld and Astrid to get tired out, and surrender to their leader.