Ankyra Sound Let mercy come and wash away what I've done

Kjalarr was not sure if this was a direct rank challenge or not, or if Ondine had just been insubordinate to his Beta. Regardless, there wasn't any time to contemplate it, nor ask it aloud: not when both women were busy tussling with one another in the sand. Perhaps he should have been like a stereotypical hot blooded male and found enjoyment in this: two women wrestling each other in the sand; but he didn't. This was serious. Not some giggly, get all “hot and bothered” situation. Despite it's lack of clarity on if it was a rank challenge or not he knew that which woman won the show of dominance would probably mean something; and he was refereeing it. He'd let this happen when he could have smoothly intervened and demanded Ondine's subordination. Yet, that wasn't the way of Saltwinter. Ranks were challenge-able. It wasn't the spar he usually associated with a rank challenge though, so he wasn't so sure, but Ondine did not just accept Maude's dominance. No, the blood stained woman fought to get the upper hand.

“No maiming one another,” He barked the reminder sharply at them, the pungent scent of fresh blood detected over the salty brine that battered the three of them. “Keep it clean.” He moved to get a better view, squinting against the sun, watching them closely. They were a blur of white and dark grey against the monochrome backdrop of sand and sea and some details were lost to the viking, but nevertheless he was the criticizing spectator.