Björn could only stand being cooped up in the general vicinity of the injured in Horizon’s Ridge for so long. He was eager to get the wrappings taken off for good - not taken off for brief periods of time while his wound aired out. He had, before departing from the territories with the intention of scouting though he desires laid in the Warden co-rank just for the benefit of stretching his legs, had Thistle fix his wound up in one of her rudimentary wrappings, not wanting to chance the another infection by splitting it open again. It had been chaotic enough the first time and in his delirium fever that had followed had almost resulted in a disaster with the healer in question. Taken with fever, the Viking did not care that she did not accept his advances harboring the rare dark desire of possessing her and taking her though upon the numerous raids Björn had led he had never resulted to taking a woman without consent as his Berserker brothers had, as his younger brother was rather fond of doing. Nevertheless, he had taken the horrid tasting painkillers the fawn colored maiden had given him to consume on his journey and he had departed with the intent of going north once more.

Not so far North that he found himself back at Odinn’s Cove - no Odinn had demanded his presence here in Teekon Wilds, this was where he was supposed to be. For a moment, Björn considered sneaking up to Duck Lake to check to see if Sveinn’s scent was still strong upon the borders of Swiftcurrent Creek, but the scarred Savage denied the desire. Sveinn had no part in this, never had and never would. The boy had to find his own way if he wanted to prove himself worthy of the Gods’ attention.

It was on the cusp of Sunspire that the scarred Viking paused, glimpsing up at the impressive land that stretched upwards towards the heavens. Above, two ravens circled him twice, and in for a few moments his blood pounded in his ears. Huginn, Munnin unmistakable even when they did not perch upon their master’s shoulders. Their screams spoke one word in a mimicry of one another ‘climb, climb' they seemed to urge before they, with a push of their wings downwards soared off, likely back to Odinn to allow the Allfather his greatest of gifts: knowledge. The gash he had taken in the effects of the landslide that had devastated Horizon Ridge was scabbing and healing and so putting it out of his thoughts and concerns he began to climb the slope, eyes focused on the, perhaps treacherous path, before him.

As Björn pressed forward his progress was measurably slow. It had been quite some time since he had tackled a mountain, and even so he had not been suffering from any noticeable and taxing injury that caused him to compensate for each step he took, limping as it were. As it was, Björn remained stubborn. He needed to prepare himself, injuries be damned; and to prepare he had to strengthen in him what had became weak whether it be from physical injury or lack of use. A small smirk of amusement twitched at his lips in an errant manner as he considered the heart attack Thistle would have probably been having if she were there to see him slowly working his way towards the summit, each step potentially more treacherous than the last. The higher he managed, the stronger the winds beat against him, but he was a Viking and held no fear of death - despite that he was confident Odinn would not allow him to die any time soon.

Pause was given and he peered up to see an ebony wolf watching him from her (though he could not tell her gender at this point) perch above. Ice blue eyes observed her once before they moved back to his path, not daring to make the mistake of looking down until he had reached the proposed safety just above him. At that point, he would allow himself to look down upon the lands and glance at Odinn’s kingdom in all it’s magnificent glory. To see what Huginn and Muninn saw every day was a rare treat but it would be treasured nevertheless as the Viking pushed forward.