Stone Circle Hello there.

Any of the Kvarsheim kids wanna come and interact? He’d enjoy it.

Bjorn had just finished filling Kvarsheim prey cache, making sure it was enough to feed the members of the pack. He enjoyed this self appointed duty, as it brought him a feeling fulfillment, being able to provide for the wolves that so kindly welcomed him into their home.

Afterwards, he had found a comfy place to lay down and rest, just for a bit. He took a moment to look around at his surroundings: How the trees were changing color, the sky had more clouds, and the air was crisp and had the smell of fall. 

He continued to look around, but this time for any youthful faces.

The previous morning, Swift observed a bobcat stalking a rabbit through the meadow. This morning, he fancied himself one.

The pup dropped himself out of sight as soon as he spotted a recumbent packmate. Crouched, he tried to emulate the quiet, fluid stride of the cat as he sneaked closer to the resting wolf. His path was winding. He could not see well through the dense curtain of grasses, and at times would poke his head out above them to reacquire his target before ducking back down. Then, convinced he had not been spotted, he stalked nearer and nearer.

Drawing close enough to see the other wolf's fur through blades and stems, Swift readied himself; his nails curling into the dirt and his shoulders and rump oscillating as he prepared to pounce.

Bjorn had sat down, taking in everything, when an unknown creature had begun to stalk him. With the stalker’s swiftness of a cat, he had not heard much but the rustling of the grass, causing his ear to flick back.

He turned his head, looking behind him, whatever it was, it was small enough to not be seen. He stayed still, and quiet, but once his stalker neared, he would stand up.

His target stood just as he sprang, bellowing what was his best rendition of a bobcat’s threatening reow!.

Collision was imminent. Paws outstretched as if he had claws to grasp with and jaws opened wide, Swiftcat was gonna seize this rabbit and drag it up a tree by its neck.

Oh yes he was.

He heard the sound of a bobcat, as it pounced its prey. He felt a thud, a body hit him. Small Teeth grabbed his scruff, as if to pillow him down and drag him off. In his calm nature, he stood like a tree. He thought perhaps he should humor the young one….
With this, he rolled down onto the ground. This is a good time to teach him.

“Well done!” He grinned, “Your an up and coming Hunter.”

Quiet, rabbit! Swiftlet growled through a mouthful of scruff. You're dead.

Whirring determinedly, he tugged and tugged and tugged. But this rabbit of his wasn't going anywhere, and the pup succeeded only in dragging himself toward his prey rather than dragging his prey toward him. His paws left score marks in the ground. With furrowed brows, Swiftlet paused very briefly to wonder why his plan wasn't working, before he resumed tugging with even more determination than before.

A shout of command, he hushed for a time, but internally, he was amused. The young hunter had continued to tug and tug on Bjorn’s thick scruff. He got nowhere, of course, and so he stopped a moment, to think.

Bjorn pushed himself back a couple inches with his legs. This pup just wanted to successfully hunt, he got the stalking and pounce down pat. However, he just needed to get a little more size on him.

Bjorn had lifted his head to look back at Swift. Maybe then he would see that this giant “Rabbit” was indeed a wolf. Bjorn woofed, sort of grunt, but he did not speak.

Swiftlet's determination was a strange and fickle thing. On any given day he might refuse to abandon his task no matter how futile. On another, he would give up almost immediately. Today was one of those latter days.

He had succeeded in pulling the rabbit an inch or two but then that was it. His prey refused to budge and even though it was supposed to be dead it had the nerve to 'groof' at him. The boy sat up with a huff and glared through narrowed eyes.

You eat too much, rabbit. Swift declared. You're too fat.

He continued to tug, then sat back with a huff, and he could feel the young ones eyes glaring at him. He’d begin to have enough of these shenanigans, and so did the scruff of his skin. “You see here young man. I am not fat, and second, I’m no rabbit, I am a wolf.” He said sternly, rolling over to sit up and face him, like a teacher may instruct their student. “You’ve proven your hunting abilities, but you’d be better off starting on a real rabbit. This is can teach you.”

Sitting upright, he towed above the young pup. He then went on to introduce himself further: “I am Bjorn, and you are?”

Pfftfft. Swift blew air at Bjorn, whose stern reproof and massive size did nothing to instill respect in the impudent pup.

I’m Bernie. He said as he started to bunny-hop around his packmate with a cheeky grin. Bernie the fat rabbit! Laughing, Swift continued to bounce and hop in a heavy, clumsy way.

This boy was mischief. Absolute mischief in one tiny body. He bounced around Bjorn, going on about being a fat rabbit name Bernie. It almost seemed to be that he, Swift, was mocking him. He thought of a reply, “Ah, Bernie. Is that so? I’ve never seen a rabbit quite like you before.” He cocked his giant head, and bought his eyes down to the boy’s level. “Truthfully, you seem more like a Swift to me. Fast, agile.”

Perhaps the young pup would take his comment.

Bjorn’s comment gave Swift pause. He ceased his mocking and bouncing and looked to the other wolf, his gaze narrowing slightly in a moment of study.

Oh yeah? His tail wagged—just twice, and just a little before he caught himself and restrained. I am fast. He agreed. Is that what Swift means?

He paused, stilling his body, all but his tail which wagged twice. His gaze was studious, thinking about what the big man had said. Bjorn looked to him: “Indeed.” He affirmed, “A swift is also a very fast bird, and its feathers are dark, just like your pelt.” 

Swift pondered this for a moment.

Hah, well, I’m faster than any stupid bird, he scoffed, puffing out his chest and giving Mr. Rabbit a grin that said, I know something you don’t. Because as far as Swift was concerned, Bjorn’s guess of his name was off the mark despite how close he had come to getting it.

He had left the boy with a burning question though, and Swift was not one to sit on such things. It practically made his toes tingle.

It’s been fun, rabbit, but I gotta go. See ya!

With that, the young wolf took off to find one of his parents to bother.

He simply chuckled at the boy. He was a spirited one, cocky even, but that was okay, it was part of his character. Being the mature wolf he was, Bjorn accepted this title of Mr. Rabbit. “Very well. By the way, I thank you for the new title. I will carry it with pride.” He said this with a sly smile. “Be safe, young Swift.” He called out as the boy took his leave.