Jade Fern Grove stand up and hold your ground

I'm so sorry this took me forever and a day to get up! :c @Kaskara

Jorunn was not sure what to make of the drop in temperatures over the past couple of weeks as they dipped lower. There was a slight nip to the air that hadn't been there before, having never been explained to about the different seasons. As far as the young Lodbrok was aware there was only one season: summer. There were many things that he hadn't been taught before the Fates stole him away from his mother and siblings, strung along as the young Seer was with a destiny that had demanded he be elsewhere; though a destiny without hardly any knowledge of where he came from was not one that tied him to his ancestry. He vaguely remembered names from stories that Thistle would tell them, but he'd long since forgotten the sound of her voice, or what she even looked like. He remembered he had four siblings and one twin but, tragically, their names had begun to fade from his mind as he took in information that was more important to him. Their names and faces became instead the names and faces of Scimitar and Bazi's litter: Allure, Pasha, Whittier, and Swift. He knew they were not his blood but they were his siblings for whatever it was worth, now.

The more time spent away from Stavanger Bay brought with it the kind of feeling that his life before Scimitar, Bazi and the bear had been a dream. A different Jorunn. The bear that had turned his world upside down had destroyed the Jorunn of the past; and that was exactly how the young legend saw it as: two distinctive parts of him one that no longer existed and the one that he was now. It was the present and future Jorunn turned his eyes and attention to now. His life was here, and the wolves of Jade Fern Grove were his family now. 

The smell of the air was different, somehow more spicy. A warm sort of aroma of the autumn season as the world around them begun to die. If the colors had begun to change on the trees yet, Jorunn could tell and would never be able to see in all of it's glory. The leaves were still varying shades of gray to him, for that was the colors of the world with his monochromacy though he had yet to learn that he didn't see normally, as everyone else did. Still, even if he would have known he would not have let it stop him. It was a hindrance during particularly sunny days, sure, but he wasn't about to let that stop him. Despite that he was weary about the bear he'd glimpsed on his previous patrol run with Bazi he knew from the slight chill in his gut that he should have asked an adult to accompany him on a patrol of the borders (especially since he was still young) but he desired to do things on his own, to prove that he was worthy of staying and...to impress and appease Bazi (whose threat still lingered unforgotten in the back of his mind).

Kas knows Thistle Cloud. I don't know if she knows their last name, but it could be interesting to have her eventually find out he's Thistle's son.

Kaskara didn't know Jorunn well, but as he was becoming more a part of her life, she decided she should visit him. That morning she was on her own patrol of the borders, and as she rounded a bend, she saw the boy patrolling quietly ahead. She barked, alerting him to her presence, and closed the gap between them with a few quick strides. As her legs were much longer than his, she had to slow her pace to match him so she wouldn't out-distance him too soon.

"Hello, Jorunn," she said with a smile. "How are you this morning?" She walked alongside him, noting his grey coloration, the way he held himself. She didn't know him, and yet she did know him, somehow. She shook the feeling away from her and turned back to their patrol, pausing to squat over a thinned stretch of their scent, spraying her own piss among Bazi and Scimitar's to strengthen their claim. They were nearly there; a few more days should do the trick. She stood up and continued walking, an ear flicked toward Jorunn.

It would be! :p I don't think Jorunn really knows his last name though. :o Also, no need to match the length, this got away from me, lol.

Jorunn became quickly caught up in his focus upon the scents that lingered on the borders — Scimitar, Bazi, Kaskara: the scents he recognized as the leaders, mixed among the scents of the others; in the sounds that emerged from beyond the safety of the borders, listening for anything out of place. Any little snap of a tree branch that might resound too heavily to be anything other than a larger predator. His eyes scanned the territory outside of the Grove's scent markers, looking for a fleeting shadow that was amiss among the painted grays of the world outside. His vision was impaired by the soft morning sunlight, but this was something that Jorunn was used too. After all, he'd seen the world in shades of gray since he could first open his eyes. He didn't know any different and assumed everyone saw gray and black and white. A sound came from within the Grove's borders, causing the Ragnarsson's ears to perk and swivel back moments before he glimpsed over his shoulder. A shadow approached with the sound of heavy footfalls giving form the closer that Kaskara drew. He had paused for a mere moment but continued on, steeling his shoulders.

Though he did not ignore Kaskara's presence he didn't want to be caught not patrolling, or doing something equally beneficial to the pack. He didn't want word to get back to Bazi that he was slacking off, especially after he'd glimpsed the bear. He felt guilty for not bringing it to his adoptive mother's attention but he couldn't be exactly sure that he'd seen a bear. He saw many things. He saw a silver wolf that looked a lot like him with a missing eye and scars marring his face and muzzle sometimes and not just in his dreams...but he didn't tell anyone about that, either. He had to get close to ascertain that it wasn't just the light playing tricks upon him — though luckily his vision was always better in the dark when colors ceased to matter. 

“Hello,” The Norse boy spoke to her softly, returning her greeting. She slowed her pace so that she didn't out stride his still growing, lanky legs. Presently, his legs felt a little too long for him, his paws a little too big. He was growing and rapidly but his growing body was awkward and to his chagrin would continue to be so until he filled out. He was large, already, a broadness to his shoulders that hadn't been there as a pup. He was a teenager now and it showed. “I'm good,” Jorunn responded offering her a small smile. “...thank you,” He breathed after a pause to sniff at the borders. The words still tasted strange in his mouth. Thank you, Please. Words that the old, extinct Jorunn would have never used. He'd been a Prince once. The Jarl's eldest son ...and now...now he was just a pauper. He wasn't really sure who he was or where he fit into the world. He was an orphan with no identity. 

“How are you?” Jorunn returned the question to be polite, though he was genuinely interested. He didn't know the Grove's Beta well but she made the effort to speak with him, as opposed to ignoring him as she could have. He owed it to her to return her kindness. He owed so much to the wolves of the Grove and it was something that Jorunn knew he'd never be able to repay.

Kaskara watched the young man struggle to find the words, and then winced slightly as he stumbled over his manners. Kas didn't believe that pleases and thank-yous had to be said; the only thing she required was a respectful manner. The words weren't necessary if the actions were clear. But since he wanted to be polite, Kaskara returned it with a nod. "I'm fine, Jorunn. Thanks." It was clear he was patrolling the borders, so she motioned with her nose for him to continue, and she walked beside him.

After a moment of silence, she looked at him with a grin. "Working on your warden trade?" The questions was soft, unobtrusive, wondering if that was what he was doing. Whatever it was, Kaskara wanted to know this young man, the one her brother found wandering the north and had taken under his wing. They walked along the border, each pausing at various spots, and Kaskara was content to let the silence linger. She didn't need words to know the boy; his actions would prove his mettle.

Jorunn eagerly returned to his patrol when Kaskara gave him the go-ahead with a gesture, relieved that he didn't have to focus too much upon courtesy words such as please and thank you for too long. For some reason, he felt awkward when he used them, even though they were sincere. By this point, he was used to being polite well enough, but it wasn't something the viking in him was used to doing; and perhaps there would always be a part of Jorunn that would be barbaric and a heathen by nature. What he was, in truth, was something learned, surely, but also in his blood, as well. Generations of those that called themselves vikings was in his DNA and though his personality had certainly shifted upon being adopted by Scimitar and Bazi, being morphed into something different that it'd previously been on a crash course with, he was his late father and grand-father's progeny ...even if he didn't realize it, or if he ever came to re-learn it. He remembered little of his biological family having been taken from them so young, so to know about his heritage and to explain some of his tendencies he would have to eventually find them, though he never intended too.

After all, as far as Jorunn was aware, they didn't want him. They didn't appear to make any effort to really find him. Now that he was old enough to discern such a thing it was likely they thought he died when the sea pulled him under. Nevermind that he, truly, was Ragnar's son and death would not so easily take him, never mind that Jorunn was made of tougher stuff than that. He'd been fortunate. Lucky, even. “Yes,” Jorunn responded, and then hesitated for a few seconds before he cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. “I know I probably shouldn't be running the patrols alone,” He was growing, yes, and he likely needed the experience that came along with guarding them alone (after all it was unlikely he would have company when he was an adult), “but I know what to do if a stranger approaches.” He also had imagined the scenario in which a loner or stranger tried to use his youth against him. Diplomacy was, perhaps, not yet among Jorunn's skill sets but perhaps charisma was something that would come naturally to him. He was young, not stupid after all. If the situation would to ever appear like it was getting out of his control he was to call for an adult, he knew.

Part of Jorunn was itching to actually put his plan into action, to have a real circumstance in which he truly got to be a warden but so far the borders had been and appeared to be quiet.

Kaskara listened to little Jorunn, a child growing quickly into a young adult, and smiled. "You're not in trouble, Jorunn. Everyone must do their part to protect the family." She fell into step beside him and let their silence stretch. Kas wasn't afraid of it like some wolves; it let her think, mull over any issues she might be having, and come to a conclusion without interruption and noise. Sometimes she much preferred the noise of nature rather than others, and today was no exception. So Jorunn was a perfect companion this morning.

"Tell me what you'd do," she suggested, smiling at him. They walked together, their silence stretching, and she wondered if he'd explain. She wasn't going to berate or chastise him, whatever he thought; all youth needed to learn how to protect their borders, how to greet visitors or trespassers, how and when to call for help. Kaskara was a firm believer in teaching pups how to fend for themselves, because there would be a time or situation when the adults wouldn't be around or readily available, and they'd have to protect themselves eventually.