no time here in space

Ný Eldur.

Týrr stirred in his sleep, curled against a fallen cedar log, the soft moss that had grown around and up it provided an adequate bedding. It had served as the Rekkr's bed for since he had first pledged his loyalty to Tuwawi, Njal and Duskfire Glacier as a pack. It happened to be directly under a break in the canopy at the base of the mount, allowing him a perfect view of the star littered sky of night, sometimes treating him with the breath taking view of falling stars as they shot with glory across the velveteen darkness. It was a treasured spot, likely, where Týrr would dig his den when he ever got around to it. Originally, he had intended to find a cave but this had became his favored spot.

Ný Eldur.

The whisper was feather soft and seemingly right in his ear; chocolate color triangular ears twitched as if they were shooing away a fly buzzing past, and the Rekkr stretched in his slumber, muscles pulling taunt and quivering with the action before he drew his legs back to his body. Again, the two words whispered in his slumber and he jerked awake suddenly, eyes opening, pupils dilating to nearly swallow his crystalline irises whole leaving nothing but a small halo. For a second, Týrr was confused, having been fairly sure that a female had been standing there and whispering into his ear but there was no one. The only sounds he heard were the signs of life of his new pack mates and the chirps of crickets and the soft, soothed breathing of sleeping prey. Still, he did not forget the words that he had dreamed of.

New Fire.

Ný Eldur, Týrr repeated the words to himself in his native tongue, brow furrowing as he pushed himself to his paws, shaking his coat free of the debris that clung to it. He did not immediately recognize the significance of the words until he tried saying them as one word instead of two, how his father's named was Lothbrok. Two words strung together to make what these Southerners considered a sire name. Nýeldur, He repeated, speaking them together instead of separate. A new path, a renewed fire. All at once, with a soft breath it made sense. He would be known no longer as Týrr Ragnarsson. Now he was Týrr Nýeldur. Something new, something that was his.

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The forest swam with shadows murkier than those of the wetlands. Malachi parted his mouth and scents wafted through him, but wherever he turned he could see only shadows and midnight forms of countless wolves ebbing in and out of the hazy fog. They remained faceless and aloof, and no matter how fast he ran toward one, they would disappear with the mist before he could see their face. Surrounded yet alone. A shiver coursed his spine, and Malachi twitched in his sleep. They spoke in whispers he mistook for the rustling of wind through the canopy leaves. He chased them this way and that and soon his legs grew weary at their taunts and he lowered himself shakily to the ground, their voices still whistling as he shut his eyes and ears against the shadow wolves.

Reality met him when he opened his eyes and he blinked several times to realign himself with the world. The forest here merged too easily with the one of his dreams, and he felt his limbs ache as he moved them one by one away from his body. Exhaustion weighed his eyes. On the air he could taste the scents of his packmates and after a moment he rolled over and lifted his head to scan the forest with a heavy gaze. A part of him expected to see the forest wolves again, but as he looked he saw nothing but trees. Fog did not linger here, and as he cupped his ears he could hear nothing but the sound of night creatures busying themselves before the dawn, and a whisper of the wind through the canopy leaves -

'Nýeldur.' Malachi's eyes widened at the voice and he pulled himself to his paws despite the buzz of exhaustion that trilled through his core. The voice spoke in a language he had never heard before, and he felt his chest tighten as he darted his eyes around the shadowy trees. Then, he saw him, a wolfish figure with his back toward him standing some lengths away. Malachi froze as visions of his night terrors trickled back through his mind. Immediately, Malachi tasted the air. At first he couldn't quite place the scent, but felt a small relief when he recognized it as the other male who'd joined the travels some days back. Yet the whisper of strange words still rang in his ears and left him with an unsettled feeling he was still lost in his dream and, before he could second guess his actions, Malachi lurched forward with a graceless trot, his coordination still inhibited by his waking state as he moved toward the shadowy wolf with a quiver in his step.

Thank you for joining! :D

It was only after Týrr had murmured his name, pronouncing it as one word instead of the two distinctive words that they were, did the Rekkr realize that he wasn't as alone as he had once made the mistake of thinking he'd been. Brow furrowed softly in confusion as he tried to make sense of the silhouette that cut through the shadows of night that stole over the lands at dusk as the sun sunk beneath the horizon which eagerly rose to meet it and swallow it whole. Crystalline blue eyes studied the figure which had lurched forward and began to move towards him, chocolate colored hackles bristling slightly in surprise, forgetting for nothing more than a split second that he was now apart of a pack. Long, had he traveled on his lonesome and becoming accustomed to pack regulations and the constant presence of others was strange to him. It was a novelty all over again. After that split second had passed he realized his place, that he was now apart of something greater than himself. His guard did not entirely lower, however, until he sniffed at the air, determining that the scent of the other male that was approaching was of Tuawai and Njal.

The closer the unknown pack mate came, the easier it was for Týrr to study him. It became apparent that while he knew next to nothing about the male that he, at least, recognized him on sight alone. He was the man that had tentatively scooped up Maera when the youngest Sveijarn girl had decided to throw a twenty minute temper tantrum that had delayed the caravan from Swiftcurrent Creek. Hello, Týrr broke the silence between them, though the world was hardly silent, filled with the lullabies of the night. Dawn was approaching, soon, the Rekkr determined from the position of the moon, sparing it a quick glance before his gaze went back to the other Glacier male; figuring that it didn't hurt to get to know a new pack member before he started on filling the caches he had already started in between patrols of the borders.

:D

As soon as he began to move toward the silhouette, the earthen wolf turned, icy eyes flashing momentarily in the beams of dwindling moonlight. Malachi felt a weight lift inside when he caught sight of the male's face, solid and real, though still largely hidden by the shadows of the night. Yet the earthen's wolf's body showed no signs of fading, not like the misty wolves of his night terror, and Malachi felt his hackles lower as a surety settled over him. Slowing his trot, the grey male shook his head to rid himself of the final touches of the night, then flicked his eyes toward the earthen boy again, blinking away the bleariness of sleep until he could see him clearly. The first thing he noticed was how much the earthen male resembled his brother back home. Tall and broad shouldered, a formidable wolf by anyone's standards. Malachi did not notice his tail begin to lower at the thought.

He stopped a wolf length away from his packmate and nodded his head to return the earthen male's greeting. "Morning." His voice sounded groggy from sleep and he cleared his throat. He caught the male's quick glance to the sky and realized he may have interrupted the earthen male's plans for the day. Though the Glacier wolf's attention soon returned to him, Malachi hesitated before speaking again. "I hope - " Malachi paused to clear his throat again, dropping his voice lower so as to not wake any other packmates around. "I hope I'm not intruding, but that word you spoke - what language was that?" He paused before adding, "I've never heard it before." Having spoken at such a personal hour, Malachi assumed the boy's words to be a private musing, a thought for the ears of the earthen boy alone. To inquire about the language felt less intrusive, and left room for the Glacier wolf to share the murmur's meaning if he so desired - or otherwise keep it hidden.

Týrr was not usually awake quite so early. The Rekkr was not a fan of oversleeping, because it made him feel lazy and sluggish if he allowed himself to sleep in past a certain time. Nevertheless, Týrr turned off his wandering thoughts for the moment, allowing his attention — all of his attention — to focus upon the other Glacier man as the gray man approached and stopped when they were about a wolf's length away from one another. The man whose name he did not know returned his greeting with a groggy 'morning', his voice still laced with the traces of sleep. A sheepish expression stole over the Rekkr's face as he contemplated that his spoken words might have woken up his companion. So wrapped up in the revelation of it Týrr had not realized that anyone had chosen to sleep so close to his favored spot. He had no proof that such was the case, of course, but he felt the guilt for not being more considerate to his fellow pack mates. Having this land no occupied by more than himself and occasionally Tuwawi was an adjustment.

I apologize if I woke you, Týrr spoke with soft chagrin, not wanting to make any excuses for himself. It didn't matter that he was used to being alone now, having traveled as such for so long — or at least since he left Swiftcurrent Creek unable to bring himself to return to Odinn's Cove while his rampant uncle ruled it. No, Týrr shook his head and spoke again in a softer, reassuring tone, — no, you're not intruding. He hoped that speaking the epiphany out loud didn't make him look like he was in the habit of speaking to himself. It is Icelandic. It is my native tongue, Týrr admitted with a slightly sheepish smile tugging at the edges of his lips. In my culture we don't really have surnames but sometimes nicknames can be adapted to serve a similar purpose. Nýeldur is my...adapted surname. It means new fire. Fitting I think given that it shares part of Duskfire Glacier's name. He explained with a wiry smile. He likened that he sounded very unorthodox but he was pleased. It was odd but it was his and he cherished the gift from Freyja and Frigg. Especially given that he had never really had “interaction” with the Gods in his dreams as Ragnar did.

I'm Týrr, by the way. He offered his pack mate his name since he hadn't had a chance to do it before.

I've just started a new school year, so I apologize for any late replies. I sense they are bound to come D:

Malachi shifted his weight as he heard the soft chime of guilt in his packmate's apology and wished in that moment he'd given more thought to his resting place. When he'd felt the pull of exhaustion the night before, he'd simply done what he'd done for the past three moons: curl up on spot and sleep. He realized now he should have given more thought to the earthen boy, who he knew had chosen a spot nearby, and Malachi decided he would find a different place to sleep that night so his packmate could rest at ease.

But the guilt soon faded from the boy's voice, and Malachi felt his own guilt begin to fade to the back of his mind as the earthen male gave more of an answer to his question than Malachi had anticipated. He tried not to look too eager: the Kalderon had very little experience with cultures other than his own, so this glimpse into the youth's was something very new, very strange and very curious. While his pack had tried not to boast in heritage, there had always been an undercurrent of pride borne by their surname. Not that they believed their family to be better. Simply, their surname testified to the deeds of their forefathers and was to be worn with honor and integrity. His surname had identified him and had encouraged him to walk in the the ways of his ancestors, and Malachi knew it still did and always would. But something intrigued Malachi at the earthen male's practices and perplexed him all the same. Whereas Malachi had inherited an identity with his surname, his packmate's self-appointed surname created one. Nýeldur. New fire. A new life and a blank slate. Could a wolf really just start over? Malachi felt a strange trill through his stomach at the thought.

"It is very fitting." came the sum of his thoughts, just before the earthen male gave him the rest of his name. Týrr Nýeldur. He mused briefly at its curious chime and for a second fell silent. Then, he realized he hadn't yet given Týrr his own name and quickly dipped his head as embarrassment burned his cheeks. "Ah, and my name's Malachi." He let his discomfort sift aside as he raised his eyes to look just past Týrr's. "So where are you from, then, if you speak Icelandic?"

It's ok! c: Apparently, I cannot type yawn without yawning. lol!

It would take some time to get back into the habits of pack life, of remembering that he was not the only one to inhabit the space around him. There was a part of Týrr that was disappointed that he had not adjusted more quickly — after all they were social creatures. Well most of them were social creatures by nature. There was, he amended, always that black sheep that lived for solitude. They were nothing if not adaptable though; they had to be. The Rekkr felt his jaws part in an spontaneous, involuntary yawn before they snapped shut and he blinked sheepishly at his pack mate, hoping the older male did not think that he was boring him. That wasn't the case at all. Apparently, the last traces of sleep had not entirely disappeared from Týrr and subtly the chocolate colored Rekkr stretched again, hoping that it would help to wake him up a bit more.

Týrr's ears cupped forth when his companion spoke again, agreeing that it was fitting. Týrr was not sure if he could take credit for coming up with it, so instead nodded once in a grateful gesture. Regardless of if he could claim the credit for it or not, or if it belonged to Freyja it was his nevertheless. It was almost a strange concept to disconnect himself from Ragnar with the simple acceptance of a name, of an identity, he supposed. Nice to officially meet you Malachi, Týrr murmured with an amiable bow of his head. I come from a pack called Odinn's Cove, in the farthest reaches of the North. While being bilingual had been impressive in the Cove, and while it had certainly came in handy in the Teekon Wilds he didn't think it held as much of the necessity that it had back in the Cove. Not many spoke Icelandic here, from what he could tell, and Týrr had adapted accordingly.

Same here! xD

Malachi let his tail wag gently at Týrr's respectful greeting. "And you the same." He said in reply before pricking his ears to listen to the earthen male again. '... Odinn's Cove, in the farthest reaches of the North.' Malachi had come from the North and had never heard of Icelandic or Odinn's Cove before now. The far North Týrr hailed from must have been even further than the Blackwood Vale. The thought surprised him for a moment until the Kalderon remembered the times he'd scaled the mountains that eclipsed his valley home and the stretches of mountains, hills, and plains that met him in the land below. Back then he couldn't imagine what lay in the realms beyond their Vale: now, he was finally getting a glimpse, and his heart tripped with the desire to know more.

His thoughts were interrupted as he broke forth in a large yawn. As he shook his head to rid himself of sleep again, the Kalderon suddenly realized both of them must have woken earlier than anticipated. He'd noticed the yawns and stretches of the earthen boy, but hadn't thought much of them until then. But he was far too awake now to go back to sleep, and as he shot a glance to the sky he reckoned the dawn would soon break forth entirely. Besides, this world intrigued him far more than his spectre land, and the territory before them still lay vast and unexplored. He turned to his companion and let a grin cross his face, though he spoke his words with a tentative tone. "How about a patrol this morning? It'd do us both good to wake up a little."

I'm sorry for the shoddy, short post. I had to rush it a bit because I had errands to run and didn't want to forget what I was writing. xD

Half of the time the brutality of his culture kept those who ventured towards the Odinn's Cove and it's sister pack Freyja's Moors from inquiring and those that had lived near and were subject to their winter raids fearful. The own inhibitory inquisitiveness that Týrr was afforded caused him to respond in kind. Often times, he was curious but not curious enough to pry or become intrusive in his desire for knowledge. Unlike his father. Words were weapons and knowledge was undeniably priceless but there was a line that needed to be drawn. Assorted morals that defined how far you were willing to go in your quest for it and where you crossed the line. Where you looked to what was to come if you continued digging and clawing and said no more. The sound of his companion's voice broke Týrr out of his revere. A slight shake of his head was given to chase the last tendrils of wandering thoughts away &mdashl hoping that Malachi would mistake it for a gesture to rid himself of tiredness instead of a lack of attention on the Nýeldur's part. A patrol sounds like a good idea, Týrr concurred with an amiable flick of his tail behind his haunches. Týrr hesitated only slightly before he moved forward, his designated direction chosen because it would take them to the borders quicker than most of the others. It was a path that Týrr knew well and he hoped that Malachi did not mind that he had taken the initiation despite that it was not his idea. Are you going for the Warden trade as well? Týrr inquired of his companion in a conversational tone. It felt like one of those questions whose answer would either be stupidly obvious or surprisingly not what was expected. Týrr made the assumption that because Malachi had suggested taking a patrol together as opposed to a hunt that it signified that the other male, too, was aiming for the Warden trade.

Or, simply, it would signify what happened when Týrr made assumptions.

That's alright (:

Malachi had spaced out enough times in his life to calculate the same had happened to Týrr, and he took little offence to it. Nitpicking at things like that only caused unwarranted division, such things Malachi felt determined to avoid. Týrr recovered from his wandering thoughts after a shake of his head, and the greyscale grinned when the earthen youth agreed to his suggestion to patrol.

He did not mind that Týrr took the lead: someone had to do it, and by the confidence with which the earthen boy moved Malachi wondered how many times he'd been down this path before. Týrr's question caught the greyscale off guard, but he kept his expression level despite the naivety that flooded his mind. He didn't quite know what a Warden did, but determined they had something to do with patrolling the territory, and was a duty Týrr pursued.

"I hadn't considered it." He replied meekly, despite the confidence he tried to write on his face. Malachi found his mind searching for words to say, ones that wouldn't reveal his lack of knowledge on the subject at hand. "You are pursuing it, though? What other trades are you after?"

Týrr was not a huge fan of spacing out in front of company, but attributed his relapse into what he considered to be a bad habit from his time spent alone. It had only been months but even so it had been enough for the Rekkr to have to get used to things like being in almost near constant company again. He enjoyed pack life, of course, it was in his nature as a wolf to do so, just as he enjoyed the companionship that pack life offered. The thrill of working in a unit, of being apart of something bigger than himself brought with it joy. However, it also was taking an embarrassing amount of time for him to relearn. It wasn't like he'd been years without a pack — he wasn't nearly so old to have gone years without a pack. Even so, solitude had a way of doing that, Týrr assumed.

Týrr was relieved that Malachi didn't seem to have taken insult that he had taken the lead. Týrr could never be sure how others would react to the way in which Týrr did with a naturalness that often times, surprised him. Some didn't like it, whether it was because they were higher ranked, or because Týrr was younger than them. If Malachi had, had an issue with it he didn't voice it, or show it and so Týrr continued forth at the lead, picking his way easily along the path, black, leathery nostrils flaring as the scent of the borders strengthened alerting to them that they were decreasing the distance between. Týrr tilted his head to glimpse back at Malachi over his shoulder when the other admitted that he hadn't thought about it, making Týrr feel a little embarrassed. After all, he had assumed and everyone knew what happened when you assumed something. Ears slicked to rest at half mast atop his skull for a few moments before his pace slowed as they approached the scent markers, strong and fresh with the scents of Njal and Tuwawi prominently. Yes, I am, Týrr responded to Malachi's question in regards to if Týrr was pursuing Warden or not.

Chronicler is what I am aiming for as my primary. It is relatively easy to remember our history, The earthen colored male said with a slight hint of jest. Despite the newness of Duskfire Glacier, whose history was his primary target, he'd been trying to collect the histories of other packs, too. As far as Týrr was concerned it might come in handy some day.

Edit: Are these two boys only four days apart in age? :o I thought Týrr was a lot younger than Malachi, but their birth dates are... a lot closer than I thought xD

Malachi couldn't tell if Týrr caught onto his ignorance of the trades, but decided to keep the false front of knowledge regardless. Malachi noticed Týrr's quick glance and the flattening of his ears, but the earthen male gave no admittance that he had caught onto Malachi's lack of understanding - which by all means ran fine by Malachi.

They slowed as the scent of the borderline grew in strength, but Malachi found his attention focused more on Týrr's words than on the patrol he had suggested. His mouth twitched to form a lopsided smile at the earthen male's remark. "One of the perks of being with a pack from its birth." He could guess better at the roles of a Chronicler - his pack had used the same term for those who had taught pups their pack's history - and felt an ebb of confidence return. Still, he didn't know how many trades there were, and if there were two there were bound to be more. He didn't let himself worry over whether or not he would find one that suited him: he felt more or less confident he would, once he overcame the pride that stopped him from letting his ignorance of them show.

Malachi forced himself to focus now on the borders, which spoke of Duskfire scent - and a faint feline musk that struck a troubling stir in the young Kalderon's heart. His home pack had tried to force similar cats from their territory, and though they had come to learn efficient ways of protecting their family from the beasts, the cats had proved wily, resilient, and difficult to eradicate for good. He thought immediately of the pups and felt his brow furrow as he flicked his darkening gaze toward Týrr. "We have to get these cats out of the territory."

lol! I didn't even notice that. I apologize for the wait on this! :O Also, you get me 100th post! :-)

Definitely, Týrr concurred at Malachi's statement, letting out a soft, amused snort, as they walked along the length of the borders, his eyes moving from his companion to the territories outside of Glacier. Not that I'd be opposed to learning a well established pack's history, Týrr added as an afterthought, not wanting Malachi to think that he was lazy. I think it works in my favor though, being apart of everything, apart of the history. It makes it more personal, And in the long run, as far as Týrr was concerned it would make retelling the history less like he was reciting it. It's one thing to know it, but it was a whole other ball park to have been apart of it.

Týrr fell silent after that, taking a leaf from Malachi's book to turn the full force of his focus upon the borders. The Rekkr, too, had picked up the musk that clung to the wildcats within the Glacier's territory. Crystalline eyes lifted to Malachi, lips forming into a hard line as he nodded in agreement. I know, Týrr had picked up on their comings and goings before but hadn't thought too much of it because for the most part they had let him alone and besides he didn't think that it would have been a good idea to go up against a family of cats all by himself. Týrr understood the severity of the situation well enough. The last thing anyone wanted was one of the children getting hurt by the felines.

It's alright! (: Sorry for the super short post, my brain's been dead all weekend D: And also congrats on your 100th post! :D

Malachi wished he couldn't see the danger in tracking down the cats alone so clearly. Even so, he knew the desire to ignore his better judgment would only grow stronger if he ever came across a fresh trail. The musk of lynx always hung stale on the air, and this only served to frustrate the young Kalderon more. If the lynx still had free reign of the territory, they would always prove a threat to the Glacier pack until the wolves could chase them out - or until the threat of the cats forced the wolves out first. He eyed Týrr again, noting the weight in his agreement and the grim look that crossed his face. Yet Malachi felt his eyes linger on the male's size and strength, and the lithe Kalderon felt a stirring wish he could mirror the youth's broad form. "Have you come across any yourself?"