It was not often that Kjalarr left the confines of Saltwinter. Only when the mood struck him, or when he was on official business. As the alpha male he felt a strict duty to remain and at time fought against the wandering bug when it bit him though allowing himself to do so only helped to sharpen his ranger skill (something he still had yet to earn). Besides, now that Floki knew where to find him if he wanted to visit it eliminated a lot of their having to wander and bump into each other upon circumstance. Sure, Kjalarr knew well enough where to find his better half twin but as there was a hefty price upon his head that called for his death Kjalarr hadn't been back to Moonspear.

This was a small trip of leisure. Kjalarr did not stray far — he presumed he was still in howling distance if Caiaphas or Maude needed him. It was nice to stretch his legs outside of a routine patrol and the viking took a simple pleasure from it, enjoying the brine, the sound of the ocean as it crashed upon the sands of the shore, pausing every so often to examine what treasures it had spit from it's depths. He'd examined a pretty blue shell that had been washed up upon the high tide, though to the color blind beast it was simply a light grey color. Unexciting and identical to other shells of that size and shape.

He kept moving, knowing that his monochromacy would never allow him to get into any sort of hobby like collecting things — except for maybe bones but that had such a macabre feel to it that Kjalarr (who had turned to cannibalism during the famine — I feel like this is an oxymoron or something) didn't bother. He wasn't really the “collecting” type, anyway. A scent both familiar and foreign to the Loðbrók wafted upon the salty air and without consciously deciding to he'd begun to follow it. He recognized the pack scent from the time he'd ran into Wildfire and her companion and curious was not something the viking had ever believed in stifling. He slowed as he came upon the scene, eyeing the male upon the shore before his attention went to the dark beast in the water. He let out a loud chuff as greeting and to announce his presence, wondering if it would be too unseemly to ask about Wifi's well being.

Kjalarr noticed, eyes watching as the dark woman submerged in the dark grey and frothing sea water received his loud chuff. She turned to face him. A glimpse was sent to the male that accompanied her cautiously, wanting to keep an eye on him. He wasn't sure their relation to one another — perhaps brother and sister? — but he didn't want to step on toes or give any misgivings. She calls out a greeting to him, and the viking notices her dominate posture and raises his head slightly, out of habit. It wasn't a challenge or particularly meant to disrespect her but whatever power she held she did not hold it here: just as he did not. On this neutral ground they were all equals, though he was close enough to Saltwinter to feel a bit territorial: though there were only certain territories that touched the Sound's borders that he felt truly territorial over as hunting grounds for Saltwinter's wolves.

“You're from Sleeping Dragon,” It was less of a question and more of an observation. He might not have clearly gotten the woman's scent over the salty brine of the sea but he could smell the male well enough. “I know Wildfire.” Kjalarr informed her, with a slight wag of his tail at the mention of her name. Guilt rose up as he thought that he probably should have paid her a visit by now, and should do so soon so she did not think he was avoiding her or being an ass or anything.

Admittedly, the woman's name meant little to the Viking but he offered a sage nod to both of the Dragon wolves. “I am Kjalarr Loðbrók, Alpha Male of Saltwinter,” He introduced himself, gesturing with his muzzle towards the Sound before his gaze focused back upon Thuringwethil. The Heda — Kjalarr wasn't sure what it meant but he deduced it was an important title from her demeanor — spoke that Wildfire was her head ambassador. A fond smile tugged at the corners of Kjalarr's lips. Despite that things had not worked out for Wildfire and his twin, Floki, Kjalarr was glad to know that she was doing well for herself. He held no animosity towards his ex-sister in law. Wildfire would always be family to him. “Wildfire is family to me,” Kjalarr assured Thuringwethil, offering a sheepish smile. He did not say that she had once been his sister in law — such things were not his to indulge in, after all; instead he worded it to insinuate 'we're close like family, therefore she is family'. “I think I was invited to visit her sometime but it was kind of hard to hear over the drone of the locusts. Which was concidentally when I last saw her.” Kjalarr explained though the Heda had not asked for it. He was comfortable talking about Wildfire, especially to another who knew her and he saw no reason not to be honest. “I'm glad to hear that she's doing well.” Perhaps sometime in the future he would be able to steal some time to make the trek to Sleeping Dragon to visit Wildfire and catch up with her personally.

Gyda. The name struck him as familiar, if vaguely. Yet, he knew this was only because he'd heard Thistle speak of his eldest sister on few occasions. Otherwise, he would not have remembered a woman he hadn't ever met. Hel knew he did not remember his own blood sister. Or so Ragna had vehemently argued she was. Floki was the only sibling he remembered, but that was likely simply because of the twin bond they shared. It was the uttering of the name Loðbrók that made the connection of her relation to him. They shared a father, which was not surprising to Kjalarr. He doubted there was much of anything that would surprise him when it came to Ragnar. “My elder sister,” Thought to be full blood, but he did not realize that in actuality their shared blood was through Thistle Cloud only. It mattered little. He drew in a breath and let out in a slightly cheeky, slightly sheepish grin. “One of them anyway.” The Gods alone knew how many he truly had walking Midgard.

“but I've never met her. I've only heard of her.” The Viking culture encouraged them to travel, to wander. To find themselves, to prove their worth, their strength. He offered a simple rise and fall of his shoulders to show that this fact did not bother him and was common, especially so among the Loðbrók's. “How do they fare? Gyda and Wildfire?” His curiosity was genuine as the question left his lips.