The soft, cool powder snow that had lain earlier in the day crunched under the weight of his paws as he kept a steady pace, the rhythm of his heart, strong like the deep boom of a war drum within the flesh and bone prison of his chest. Patrolling the borders was easy when all it was, was just a patrol. He had yet to intercept anyone at them, inquiring stranger, spy, or loner looking for a home. Tev imagined that actually intercepting and dealing with wolves at their borders added some sort of challenge factor to what he clung to now as repetitive. While it was repetitive it did not tire Tev mentally. He enjoyed it, enjoyed the stretch of his muscles and though he might never admit it allowed: at claiming something. The Moonspear did not belong to him, he was not one of it's leaders nor it's founder but still the marking of the borders claimed that wolves lived there and for now it was close enough. His thoughts went to Stavanger Bay and the story that Thistle had told him of how it was founded. Was that how Ragnar felt? Possessive? Although there were clear differences between father and son in this respect: Tev was refreshing already made claim markings and it was in the name of someone else. Ragnar had been claiming it for himself and his family: for the wolves that followed him to an unknown place because they trusted him, and perhaps even loved him in their own unique ways.

Tev wanted that ...someday. He wanted to be a leader like his father — legendary and great. When Wildfire had asked him where he saw himself in the future Tev hadn't had a response, really. Just ideas, nothing concrete that he knew he wanted beyond trades, because he'd been stuck in that repressive mode. He had been scared of Bazi (despite that he had loved her as a mother) and had been molded into a creature more submissive than a Viking was ever supposed to be. Tev could see it changing, that he was breaking free of the restraints he had placed on himself to ensure his survival. Scimitar had loved him as his own, and Tev had loved Scimitar as his father but Tev wasn't a Frostfur. He was a Ragnarsson and the legend of the Loðbrok family would fall upon him and Floki to carry. His other two siblings: Ragna and Kaylan would have been included in that if they, too, hadn't vanished though unlike Tev it appeared as if they had just one day wondered off.

Perhaps that was not the truth, but it was the truth that Tev had spun based on what little he'd known and couldn't help but feel sorry for his mother. It was no wonder she had fallen into that deep depression. Soon after Ragnar's death (truly the love his mother had for his father was inspiring to the young legend), Tev had been thought to be dead and then Kaylan and Ragna had gone mysterious missing. Thistle was resilient, though. A shield-maiden in all of her Valkyrie glory, and this made her stronger than perhaps even she knew. Tev could see it and admired it and was determined to nurture it as his father had before him. Perhaps one day she would even take another mate and have more children, an inquiry that Tev was bound to make at some point in his life out of nothing more than curiosity. Or perhaps she was so devoted to Ragnar that she wouldn't. He couldn't say, though the question was brought to the forefront of his mind many times.

The crack of a branch in the distance jarred Tev out of the consumption of his thoughts, steps pausing and head whipping sharply in the direction of where the snow had become too heavy for the weak branch and it had snapped, falling to the earth nearby. Ears of platinum silver slicked back and his upper lip lifted in time with his soft snort of indignation before he shook his head and continued forth with his patrol, returning his focus back to his task.

Tevinter hadn't forgotten about the threat of the bears, though he had yet to see them himself. Wisely, he avoided the areas they were said to roam though their continued presence only solidified their threat. He knew what they could do, how easy it might be for them to snuff the life out of a wolf, full grown or not. Both times he'd came across from them he'd been extremely fortunate; but Swift hadn't, and though Tev didn't know neither had been Atreyu. Tev paid no mind to the sound of approaching footfalls, continuing on with his patrol all the same, assuming that the wolf closing the space between them was Floki or Wildfire. He was wrong when the voice called out to him in a simply greeting, offering no name. There was a slight rise and fall to his shoulders as he recognized the wolf behind the voice even though Tev had not yet taken his eyes from the lands outside of the borders as he gave it a studious sweep. It was easier for him to see in the darkness of the night, and this allowed him some distance and shapes to work with though his sight was not infallible. To be fair, though, neither was the sight of anyone else, for that matter. They could easily see things or not see things that were(n't) there just as easily as he could. That was why Tev's other senses were the ones he relied upon the heaviest: scent and sound and instinct. 

“Yeah, I mostly hang around Floki and Wildfire but they are the closest to my age,” Of course Floki was Tev's age (if not a few minutes younger) so it made sense that Tev naturally gravitated to them (never mind that he was drawn to Floki for an entirely different matter as his twin). “Mom, too.” This, too, was expected. Thistle Cloud was his wealth of knowledge about his culture and Tev soaked it up as eagerly as he could. He didn't express to Charon about the treason he'd talked with Thistle about but for the moment, Tev's personal (and harsh) opinions didn't outright concern him. They were all theoretical, for the moment. Tev had gotten used to thinking about himself, although as a small child he'd had quite the penchant for being self absorbed and centered. The problem was now he had to think about how his actions affected Floki and Thistle, too. He was their Kjalarr, and the scarred phantom of his dreams had stressed that over and over like a broken record. He'd found them again and now it was upon him to take care of them, to protect them. He was the eldest of Thistle's youngest litter with Ragna gone and as the proverbial “man of the house” all of Ragnar's responsibilities when it came to family fell upon him. This wasn't particularly true for technically that job would fall to Charon as the true eldest but Tev would take care of the family, anyway. It wasn't like he had any other obligations aside from his duties within his aspiring co-ranks. 

The family could, and was Tev's first priority now. 

Charon's question caused a small swell of offense to rise within Tev's chest, though surely, Charon hadn't meant it to be insulting. A glance was finally spared in the alpha's direction, Caribbean blue with rings of silver irises sharp for a moment before he looked away, back at the territories beyond, keeping his pace on his patrol. “I am not afraid,” Tev spoke simply, though there was a razor edge to his tone that rang with a finality. “Why do you think I wear these scars with pride? They are ugly but I have stared in the face of death twice and survived to tell the tale,” Although the second time Tev had known better. He'd seen the mutilation that had been done upon Swift but that had not stopped him. “They are not Gods. They are beasts, and like all beasts they can bleed and they can die,” The Gods were more worthy of his fear then any other animal. “Of course I will help to fight.” Tev finally offered Charon an answer to the question that the alpha had posed to him.

“Yeah, it is,” Tev responded though he knew the situation had not socially called for him to remark upon Charon's statement. Not giving a crap about social obligations or necessities Tev said what was on his mind anyway. After all, this was what Charon had wanted from him, wasn't it? To reconnect with his family ...the family he liked at the moment, anyway. Tev understood the fact that his harsh judgment of Charon was perhaps unfair but he struggled to see past it. Maybe because Tev was too much like Ragnar and did not like feeling oppressed, he did not like being a follower, nor did he abide by any law that he did not make. It wasn't who he was, and truthfully, it wasn't in his blood. He was not a beast meant to be chained and that was becoming more and more clear to Tev the deeper he delved into figuring out who he was and how he fit into the world around him. Charon's hackles raised in response to Tev's response in regards to the bear. Tev simply stared, inhaling deeply and letting it out when Charon told him to “chill”. “They're a threat to my family, and while they may not be the same bears they will all suffer the injustice they committed against us,” He didn't say 'me'. Tev had said 'us', verbally acknowledging (without coming right out and bluntly saying it) that Charon was his family. Tev might not have cared for how Charon had spoken to him on the night of his return, nor how he chose to lead Moonspear but that didn't mean they weren't brothers.

Tev liked to think he was a better man than that (and sometimes he kind of was).

Tev chose to remain silent on the matter, allowing Charon to speak what he thought. In the end, they would agree to disagree and it seemed like the only way it might politely go down was if Tev kept his comments to himself. This wasn't particularly easy to do for he was quite used to speaking his mind, and was the kind of wolf that liked to lay his cards out on the table to avoid confusion later. It was easier that way, even if it ended up hurting feelings; but feelings would always be hurt in some way, somehow but at least his honesty could be counted upon (or so he thought anyway). Unknowingly, he'd adopted this philosophy from Ragnar, perhaps conditioned by the scarred northman before his brutal murder. For a moment Tev allowed the silence to stretch unsure what to talk about next with Charon. “Do you think Mom will ever take a new mate?” It was a seemingly random question but it wasn't really because Tev had been curious about it for some time and he genuinely wanted to hear Charon's take on the question he hadn't quite worked up the courage to ask Thistle directly.