Neverwinter Forest said he was a sailing man

@Eydis and/or @Luhtar and/or @Y'var'la pls come play

The bounty hunter was diligent as ever, pleased enough to have something with which to occupy himself. Border marking was not his usual work, but it was not unfamiliar to him. It brought to mind the long patrols that his grandmother used to bring him on — which was not ideal, really, but Catamaran bore the indignity with his usual stoicism.

Aside from adding to the legitimacy of their claim, it helped him familiarize himself with who belonged here and who did not. The age range veered toward younger members, he thought, with none seeming much older than the hárkonungr himself. This seemed like a grave oversight to the erstwhile seadog, who had seen many packs rise and fall in his travels. The most long-lived usually had elders among them.

But that was none of his business, really.

Slinking pantherine through the underbrush, he came across the fresh scent of what he hoped was one of his packmates. Without much thought, he turned to follow it, stalking along the trail. His own coat was mantled with the scent of the hárkonungr; he hoped this would be enough to prove that he was — well.

Let's call it friendly.

I hope this is okay

Mischievious imp left the spear behind. And headed down the mountain. On her last trip she had seen one heck of a big forest. Large and dark and a little bit scary and that just made it all the more fun. However, this time, she was hit with a wall of wolf scent and she froze before she got to the broders of what she supposed was now a pack forming. No moonwolves had been told of this happening.

She studied this big wolf with wide eyes and then the forest behind. She grinned with impish mirth. As she sidled closer. 

Whatcha doin big guy? You building a pack? What's it called? Did you tell the moonwolves. Oh they won't be too happy if ya didn't.

Before he could find his quarry, the bounty hunter ran into someone who was decidedly not part of their cohort. She was wreathed instead in the cologne of another pack; one that was not adjacent to their own, as far as he knew. But she was speaking of moon wolves as if she was not one of them, and so he assumed that this boogeyman was an adversary to them both.

And she, very near to the borders, represented some small amount of threat herself. His reluctance to simply drive her off and be done with it was twofold: First, he was sure she had larger wolves caring for her that would not appreciate him bearing her teeth at her. Second, he wanted to hear more about this supposed threat.

Still. He regarded her a moment longer in silence, weighing his work ethic against a strong desire to quit the interloper's company at once. He had a bad track record when it came to polite conversation with young girls.

"I'm just walkin'," he replied, though he wasn't anymore. He took a step closer, just to see if she would quail. Made no effort to erase the mean look in his eyes, though he had no plans to harm her at this point in time. "If some moon wolves got a problem with that, I'm sure they'll let me know."

Coral eyes traced her young face, committing it to memory.

"What're you doing, little girl?" he asked, returning her own question in similar — but undeniably more threatening — dressing to her own.

This wolf was big and ugly and she would hazard a guess mean. Based on the way he stared at her blankly. Though she really wanted to ask him if he had wool for brains. She realized this would be unkind. And though she was a jokester and liked to be a little bit of a chaos gremlin on a good day. She also had manners and knew how to be all proper and stuff. Her dad had taught her after all. It's just being ornery was so much more fun. 

He tried to get closer and the fur rose along her ruff, and she stood her ground, Narrowing her eyes at him. The one white spot glaring against her black. so he was a bully good to know. And if there was anything Kinusi hated more than silence it was bullies. There was no reason for it. And he obviously had an issue. 

Oh i'm sure they will too.

She frowned at his tone and her eyes narrowed. Well I was having a conversation, I thought. But then someone thought they'd use their big boy voice and try and scare a little girl. Funny, but i'm not scared. Irritated maybe.

She raised a paw and buffed her claw along her other leg. Acting nonplussed. though inside her stomach jumped around like she ate a ton of wiggly worms. 

Since your mama didn't teach you manners. I'll introduce myself. I'm Kinusi of Moonspear. Granted she had not been entirely mannerly upon her arrival either.

SOrry she's such alittle imp. It's okay to scare her or chase her.

The bristle along her spine answered his silent question. She had some sense of self-preservation, then — though, had he been in her position, he certainly would have run. Girls, however, were different. Catamaran wondered if this was the source of her boldness.

His ears flicked in acknowledgement, but he bore her needling without much change in expression. He took her criticism in stride, in fact, but the fact remained: "This's my regular voice."

The bounty hunter had not truly wanted her to be frightened. Only to see whether or not she would recognize him as a threat. He felt sure that she did, even if she put on a good show of fearlessness. Social experiment completed, Catamaran lowered his chest to the forest floor, stretching his long forelegs in front of him to rest on his elbows. It was a submissive gesture; almost an apology, though his expression was unmoved. His hind legs remained bunched up, ready to spring him back into action should the need arise. She was smaller than him by a significant margin, but still plenty capable of sticking her teeth in his face if she was feeling bold.

"I beg your pardon," he decided, though his tone was not terribly conciliatory. Nor did he correct the oversight she'd pointed out, touching instead on a different topic she'd brought up. "Has your momma brought you to another pack's borders before?" he asked her, his tone lacking any accusation that might've been implied. It lacked most any tone, but his curiosity was apparent.

Was she frightened, a little bit. But he was trying to scare her and that just made her irrationally angry. Because how dare he. She hadn't meant anything by her question. And granted yea she could have been a little less annoying when she came up to the borders. But let's chalk that one up to adolescent boldness or something. She wasn't about to admit she was wrong.

Kinusi studied him, wondering if he was lying. Because there had definitely been a little more bass in his tone moments before. But did she really want to die on that hill. not particularly, and not today. So, she accepted it, even if she was absolutely positive he was lying. So A bully and a liar good to know. Great neighbors these were shaping out to be. She was absolutely ecstatic for the chance to meet them all. Not.

Though he took his ruse further by settling down to his belly or more so his chest. She was unsure at at first and definitely didn't trust him. It was evident on her face, but her father had always told her good will breeds good will. So she settled in a less annoying position. But she still eyed him warily. 

She snorted. Haven't seen my mom in awhile so that would be a hard no.

She grinned then her eyes dancing with impish delight. My dad does though. He's a traveling story teller and healer, or well I guess he was. Now he stays at the pack lands, but he still tells stories and heals and sings if the occasion calls for it. Well he sings all the time really.

She pointed at him. And clearly your mother didn't teach you or you'd have returned your name. So, let me just ask you. What is your name? 

She frowned. I mean I could call you grumpy face or cranky butt or meany head if you like. But they are not particularly flattering or kind. So your move sherlock.

Women still intrigued him, even when they were not yet at their full power. It was interesting and, admittedly, uncomfortable to find himself in a position of power over her. It was not much, and she could remove herself from it at any time — but it was far more than had been allowed in the place that he'd been born. There was a part of him that wanted to press further; to see how different she was than his seaborn sisters.

The flare of her nostrils drew his gaze, but his eyes skated back to hers when she spoke. A quiet cluck of his tongue expressed commiseration — a girl out to be with other girls. Other women. He knew that this was true.

"So does mine," he told her when she'd finished speaking of her father. His voice was quieter, this time; she hadn't seemed to like his speaking voice, and it cost him nothing to modulate his tone. He was inclined to cater to her whims, even if he had whims of his own that pushed him to test her boundaries.

He did not specify which part of her father was echoed in his own.

The bounty hunter tipped his head back as if to look up at the trees, but when he turned his head to the side, it revealed a strange part in his fur. Ugly scars marred his skin; he'd grown since he'd been given them, and they were strangely distorted on his adult frame.

"My momma gave me these," he told her, holding position a moment longer to give her a good look. Then he tucked his chin once more to regard her, both ears cupped forward in attention. His eyes lingered on the splash of white on her face. He wondered what her father looked like. He wondered if memories of his own held any value, or if they were compromised by time and the strange haze of youth.

Despite his conditioning, a wild hair kept him from revealing his name. He said, "You can call me what you like. Kinusi." and — apparently — he was capable of sounding magnanimous, if he tried.

Kinusi wasn't quite sure why she was playing this game of banter back and forth. She should have left. But she had just enough of her daddy's wildness and her mother's stubbornness that she was inclined to finish this pretty little dance and song number. And part of her reveled in chaos. Because how could you ever say that your mother left you. And your dad raised you. 

Ears cupped forward. You're dad is a healer? Storyteller? Singer? She studied him. And her fur relaxed a little, as did her paws. She was still wary, but he didn't seem that he was out to attack her or something so that was a plus. But his plus's weren't very high and pulling conversation from him was like pulling teeth. 

She blinked surprised, her nostrils flared in disgust. How dare someone hurt someone. Based on the way they looked and their size stretched on his frame. he had been young, younger than her when that horrible atrocity had been done to him. How undeniably cruel. And irritating, because now she felt bad for being a blister. 

Well then I think it's safe to say, she couldn't have taught you any cause she didn't have any herself. Shameful to mark a child like that.

She sighed and tapped her paw on the ground. My mom gave me blue eyes and this white spot and just a little more stubbornness than should be allowed in a girl my size. Everything else, including my winning personality if i do say so myself is from dad.

She pursed her lips and glared at him. Well i'm certainly gonna call you difficult and tightlipped. Gosh this is like pulling teeth. Fine hmm.

She studied his face and the shape of his eyes. The markings on his fur and the way he held himself. What could she nickname him. Because he for sure wasn't gonna give an inch, but she would damn sure still take a mile. 

Fine. I'll call you mist. Cause that is a pretty close coloring to your fur. But i'll find out your name someday. Even if i have to wheedle you to death.

It was disrespectful not to answer her clearly. Catamaran knew this. But the part of him that felt incredulous of her border etiquette told him to return disrespect in kind. Even so, he tried to walk the wavering tightrope of her tolerance.

Finally, an expression crossed his stony features. A slight frown that suggested he disagreed with something she said. Though she had scarred him, he still held a deep respect for his mother. True, she had not been very patient or nurturing, but her vocation had never truly been motherhood. He respected her for what she was: a warrior. A hunter. A priest.

The bounty hunter held on to the urge to defend her until it passed.

"One day you'll be bigger," he said instead. "Then you won't regret learning to be stubborn. You only need to live to see that day."

Another flicker of an expression crossed his face as he was named Mist. This was was less easily defined as a smile or a frown. His eyes were still solemn, still shuttered meanly even against this low light. But there was a quiet regard in them all the same. His desire to see the back of her was gone and forgotten. Now, he wondered how to keep her from leaving.

"They call this pack Forneskja," he told her, his voice still low, but taking on a new quality. Like this was a secret. Did all children like secrets? He had, when he was still small. "I will tell you about them. If you will tell me about the moon wolves."

She had at least not stepped over the borderline. Merely skirted the line a little. After all. How was she gonna be a story teller and healer that traveled if she didn't well travel. Granted. Her manners left a bit to be desired.

Kinusi caught the frown. But she wasn't about to argue with him. His mom was wrong. She had abused him. Whether he saw it or not. Even her own mother despite that she was not here. Had been nothing but lovely to Kini.

She snorted. Trust me big guy. Pretty sure this is as big as this fireball comes. I mean I'm perfect after all.

His name suited him. Though it drove her crazy not knowing his real name. Altho she kinda liked mist. And wondered now if he had some normal name like Joe or Tom or ick Gabe......so Mist it would stay.

Ears tweaked forward. So the pack had a name. Interesting. But what a weird name. She frowned, working the name through her mind as she did so. It was interesting and also felt forbidden. Like when she stole her dad's snacks or hid the other kids toys and chewie.

Well. She tapped her paw to her muzzle for a minute. 

The Matriarch pack is moonglow. It was the pack to start all the others. It is a focus on healing and hunting, but they have many allies and friends. Largely in part from the leader of Moontide. They hold a hunt for all the wolves of the wilds in fall. Moontide was originally Kukutux's daughter and son in law. But Samani the daughter well she died while having babies. Now Rodyn runs it alone. Moonspear is run by another one of Kukutux's daughters Sialuk. My dad Alaric is her ah 2nd in command, uh beta. Moontide is run by mostly hunters, but they have a healer or two. And the spear we focus on healing and Lady Sialuk is a seer.

His ears twitched.

"Mist," he reminded her, as if she had forgotten. He did not like big guy nearly so much.

The way that he watched it, it was clear that something about her was bewildering to the bounty hunter. If she cared to look closely, however, she might find something almost hungry in the way that his eyes tracked her movements. The tap-tap-tap of her paw was a gesture with purposes unknown to him. She was animated; frenetic instead of the hardbitten economy of motion he'd learned at the bay.

His paws itched. He wanted to mirror the behavior, but he kept himself still and listened.

Kinusi was one of the moon wolves. This displeased him, but he turned away from the fleeting emotion. He learned also that they were likely surrounded by the moon wolves, and that it was likely this Moontide that his father resided in. And her own was at Moonspear.

Moonspear. He liked that name, too.

"Forneskja is young," he said, failing to comment on the information she'd provided. Straight to the point. Payment where payment was due. "The leader is called Solharr. He is a man of the north. He has a wife. She commands a sacred space in the forest where no man may walk." In truth, he knew precious little about the pack he had, ostensibly, joined. He felt little desire to know more, except that he would have liked to have more to share with Kinusi. "He values honor, strength, and tradition."

His opinion of the man was yet unformed. He did not believe these qualities were either positive or negative, and he was not fully convinced that he believed all that Solharr had said. But he had, thus far, been easy enough to work with.

"Would you like to meet him?" he asked.

Impishly her eyes narrowed and her maw morphed into a smirk. So he liked his nickname did he. This big guy maybe wasn't the worst. He was not by any means a conversationalist. Part of her quelled at that. Because she was a talker. Clearly.

If her father had shown her nothing else, he had shown her to be her own wolf. Unique in ways that called to her. The world was too big and your life too short to be anything but genuinely yourself. Part of her was shameless.

Kinusi had never led him astray or lied. She was moon wolf. Belonged to the spear. Though it was getting a little forlorn and a wolf like her. Well. She had mostly meant moonwoman. She liked to know what happened around her.

So this was a new pack. With a leader named Solharr. It matched the pack name she should not be surprised. Though surprise colored her features. Like was the woman not allowed to talk to other wolves? Or just her sleeping place was off limits. She snorted. Men always wanting to covet. She was still young but she knew what she wanted and what she didn't.

She frowned. So he's a stuffy upstart who doesn't like change and his manners will be impeccable?

Shecgrinned again so impishly her eyes glowed with it. Will he tell me your real name if I ask?:

The bounty hunter rolled a shoulder; he felt no need to predict the leader's behavior — aside from being fairly sure he wouldn't be leading Kinusi to harm. "He is Solharr," he replied, more interested in trying to predict her behavior. He thought she would want to see for herself what he was like. And, on that note:

"You will have to ask him," he suggested, his voice mild.

Bracingly, so that he would not startle the girl, Catamaran pushed himself to his paws. A long stretch punctuated the conversation, perhaps signaling the end. But instead of turning away, he gave her his side, inviting her to join him. His coral gaze now asked a question: Are you coming?

Luhtar moved through the territory with deliberate steps, the soft crunch of leaf matter beneath his paws muffled by the sound of his own loud breath. There was a fog that hung low, curling around the underbrush as he navigated the winding trails.

But the stillness broke. A voice—unfamiliar and sharp—carried faintly on the breeze, pulling his ears upright. He stopped, head tilting as he strained to catch the direction of the sound. Moments later, another voice followed, older but less unfamiliar, the tone enough to prick his curiosity.

His brow furrowed, tail flicking once as he adjusted his path, moving toward the disturbance with careful, measured steps.

He stepped through the brush soon enough, eyes moving from one to the other. One smelled of his Hárkonungr, that alone enough to lower his guard.

"Who this?"

Kinusi weighed her options for a minute. She could gi learn a little and return with the information to share or keep. However, there was the fact that she was with essentially a stranger, with no name in a territory that did not belong to her. Arrogance and Brashness could only get her so far. And though she was confident in her magnitude to talk her way out of most things. She was still wary. Even More so when another great beast came.

Inwardly she was frightened. Outwardly she got to her feet almost lazily. A flick of an ear. A look of irritation on her face.

How quaint another unmannerly one. I am Kinusi. And Mist here was just about to show me to your leader.

She looked this new one over. Did no one have manners here. Just big giant brutes?

His focus on the girl was such that he did not sense the approach of another until he was near enough for his pawsteps to echo. The bounty hunter cupped an ear in his direction, his heart rate increasing just a fraction. He was protective of the girl. Perhaps he was possessive. But he resisted the urge to step in front of her and hide her from view.

The man who came to them was not one that Catamaran had seen before. His scent, however, was present amongst Solharr's, and so he was obliged to be polite. As polite as he was capable of being. He was relieved, then, when it seemed that his manners would not be too far below standards, here.

"A young emissary from Moonspear," the bounty hunter explained, his posture carefully neutral, but his eyes still narrow and harsh. Inwardly, he was just a little afraid, too. Not for himself, but for the plucky young wolf at their borders. There were places in the world where women were expected to bow to men — a concept that'd wholly disturbed him when it had first become known.

Was this one of them?

Luhtar, still young himself, couldn't say he was surprised by the young girl's lack of... kindness. And the man, who Luhtar wrote off as one of the Forneskjan newcomers he hadn't yet met, was tense. Tense, but nice enough. Luhtar's gaze dragged from one to the other.

Moonspear? He hadn’t heard of them, then again, he only knew of Forneskja. That mattered little now.

Luhtar was quiet for several beats, his gaze cloudy, and he was visibly lost in thought. "Unmannerly? He finally spoke, choosing to confront the self-proclaimed Kinusi on her insult. There was no anger to be found upon Luhtar though, only a shred of amusement that circled through his amber stare. "You are unmannerly one. You insult me in home. You, Kinusi." His ears swatted.

Yes, he was proud of his comeback. Luhtar's chin lifted, his nostrils flared, inhaling a deep and greedy breath of the pup's scent. She stunk of strangers. He let his eyes roll towards his packmate, head tilting as he examined the older brute. "You wish her to meet Hárkonungr?"

Kinusi blinked and smiled. But it was a little sharp toothed. She weighed her options she could press the issue as she had not been unmannerly. He had been the one to barge into an already established conversation. He had also been the one to demand who she was without even a greeting.

She tilted an ear. Am I now. I believe I was the one in the middle of a conversation that you interrupted. I also was not greeted but it was demanded you know my name. So I'd take that as a little bit rude.

She narrowed her eyes. As fun as this has all been. I think I've changed my mind. I'll be leaving. Maybe I'll meet your Harkonungr another time.

She sniffed. Nice to meet ya mist.

Then she eyed them both before slowly turning. Hopefully they didn't believe in striking while someone's back to them. Had she more patience perhaps she'd have stayed. But she felt now as if she def outstayed her welcome. Not to mention traipsing around claimed territory with one was bad enough, but two. She didn't like those odds. And her self preservation finally kicked in she supposed.

And she was irritated by the other one more than she would say. Who also didn't share his name.

The situation devolved. Catamaran had never been very charming, and he had no hope of managing an interaction with yet another wildcard involved. Frustration filled him, and a kernel of resentment bubbled in his chest like slow poison. The glance he cut to his packmate was empty, but hard.

The bounty hunter's head swung back toward Kinusi as she began to excuse herself. She pulled him after her as if in a splitstream; he dug his claws into the earth to keep from reclaiming the step she'd put between them.

"Another time," he echoed — agreement? Incredulity? It was impossible to tell. He thought of a verse he'd once heard, though the context was lost to him: Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. Catamaran did not think her self-righteousness was very quenching, but the burn of it went down like hard liquor.

As soon as her back turned, he did take a step after her. Just one.

"Be well, Kinusi," he said, his voice hoarse as he dared to raise it above the conversational level he'd lowered it to. For her.

Then his eyes cut sharply back to his newest friend. They burned like embers beneath his furrowed brow. But his voice, conversely, was gentle when he spoke.

"Diplomacy would have been appreciated," he murmured, too low for Kinusi to hear even if she could understand the northern tongue. "She was only a girl. Children are unruly. But children have parents who lead other packs."

His head cocked, and one ear was cupped toward the other male while the other tracked Kinusi's retreat.

Brows scrunching up in mild confusion at the girl's sudden exit, he brushed it off at nothing more than a troublesome child. She would crawl back to her home, with her parents, where she belonged. He doubted she would stay away, but that was none of his business.

What confused him most was this Forneskjan males odd sensitivity towards her. His nose twitched, taking a quick whiff of Catamaran before he settled his eyes onto the pale furred, lanky sailor. He glared back at Luhtar with eyes of fire, causing his own to narrow slightly.

Had Luhtar done something to offend?

“Diplómatía…” — Diplomacy. He repeated, accent thick, the word coming slower than the others. “Ég sagði enga lygi. Hún…” — I didn't tell a lie. She... His yellow eyes flicked briefly to where Kinusi had disappeared. “Hún kom hingað. Ekki ég við hana.” — She came here. Not us to her. His tail flicked once behind him, a gesture more contemplative than defensive, as if he was sorting through the unfamiliar tension.

Luhtar wasn’t blind to Catamaran’s concern, nor did he dismiss it. He just didn't care for the child's comings and goings as he, clearly, did.

He shrugged then, not bothering to wait for Catamaran's reply. He had to finish patrolling so that he could fill his belly with a delicious meal. Venison sounded delicious, he thought to himself as he trudged past the wolf. He offered him a flick of his tail upon the shoulder in goodbye.

The other male repeated the word as if he'd never heard it before. This impression was further cemented when he spoke next of truth or lies.

Expertly, the bounty hunter feigned patience while faulty reasoning was outlined to him. A twitch of his eye was his only tell. That and, perhaps, the way that he stood so very still, unable to articulate a response lest he lose the thin veneer of gentle acceptance. Flash-in-the-pan anger seared red behind his eyes as he fully processed the carelessness of the response.

It was already fading by the time the male took his leave, but the bounty hunter's head still jerked toward the strange male's flicking tail. He was too well disciplined to bite it, but the urge pooled excess saliva behind his aching teeth.

"What is your name?" Catamaran called after him, finally shaking himself out of his self-imposed stupor.

Luhtar paused mid-step, his ears flicking back at the sound of the male’s voice calling after him. He turned his head, yellow eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded the other wolf. The tension in the air was obvious, the sharpness in the brute’s gaze and the way he held himself too still to be anything but restrained.

Anger was nothing new to him, and he assumed, perhaps carelessly, that the male simply had a temper to wrestle with.

“Luhtar,” he said simply, his voice steady and rough-edged. He let his gaze slide over the other tall male, taking in the broad shoulders and the tightly coiled restraint in his posture. For a moment, he debated leaving it there, letting the encounter drift into silence. But something about the stranger—his composure, despite the anger—made Luhtar pause.

“I was wrapping up a patrol,” he said, his words slow and deliberate. “You may join me. If you want.”

The offer was hesitant, his tail giving a subtle flick as he waited for a response. He wasn’t sure why he’d made it, but there was a curiosity he couldn’t quite shake. Better to know this wolf now than wonder later what his intentions were.

A name was traded for a name: "Catamaran."

He wondered, though, if the other male cared at all to know it. Admittedly, Catamaran would not have asked if he hadn't thought it would prove useful later on. Pragmatism must ever supersede their desires.

Except, said a snide voice at the back of his mind, where tact and diplomacy are concerned.

The bounty hunter pushed this voice away. He'd not been very tactful or pragmatic in his conversation with Kinusi, either. He'd only played her game much more willingly than Luhtar. This was not a crime, and it would be the height of pique to start a grudge over it.

"I will join you," he agreed. It would be the height of pique not to, when he'd been at the start of a patrol, himself, and they were going in the same direction. He stretched to rid himself of the last of his tension and then slunk after his new companion. As he closed some of the distance between them, his nostrils flared to catalogue the other man's scent.

He ranged not quite alongside, but certainly adjacent to Luhtar, weaving in and out of the borders to be sure they covered a wide swathe of ground. He found himself pausing nearby the other male to lift his leg on a tree.

"How long have you followed Solharr?" he asked.

Luhtar gave a small nod of acknowledgment as the name settled between them. “Catamaran,” he repeated, the syllables rolling off his tongue with care, as though tasting their weight. His head tilted slightly, and a faint flick of his tail accompanied his next words. “A strong name.”

When Catamaran agreed to join him, Luhtar offered no objection, merely turning and setting off along the patrol path. There was a quiet curiosity about him, the subtle way his gaze flicked toward the other male now and again, but his focus remained largely on the task at hand. He moved with a steady rhythm, weaving from tree to tree, dutiful in reinforcing the borders. His broad paws crushed leaves and branches underfoot as he worked, leaving a long and thick trail of his scent.

The question came unexpectedly, breaking the quiet hum of their walk. Luhtar’s ears twitched, a subtle signal that he’d heard, though he didn’t answer immediately. He paused near a tree, lifting his leg to mark it before letting his gaze drift to Catamaran.

“Sólhárr,” he began, his voice low and measured. He turned back to their path, speaking as he walked. “We come from the same cluster of clans to the North. I was just a boy when I first heard his name—they told stories of a great, young Chief in Vetrfjörðr.”

His tone carried a note of quiet pride, the kind reserved for a figure larger than life. “He would come to feast with my father. Sólhárr was always strong. Always bold. We called him the Burning One. He was legend, even in youth.”

Luhtar’s gaze turned forward, his words softening as he continued. “I follow him because he is my leader. A leader I trust. I will follow to the death, if needed.”

mentions @Solharr

Silence was never uncomfortable to the bounty hunter — not by itself, anyway. But company in general was rarely something he could savor. This time was no different.

They walked an efficient patrol, not pausing when Catamaran asked his question. The pause did not bother him; not even when it seemed that Luhtar would not answer. But answer he did — and each sentence left the bounty hunter with a sinking, eerie feeling in the pit of his stomach. Who was this Solharr? He couldn't have been that much older than himself or Luhtar, yet he seemed to have had some sort of reputation from an early age. Catamaran wondered if he, too, would have developed one if he'd stayed in one place for long enough. He'd killed enough wolves, hadn't he? But then again, that sort of infamy didn't make for a long life.

Whatever it was, it seemed to inspire great loyalty and admiration in this man. Catamaran had to force himself not to react to the idea of following Solharr into death. No one was worth that, he was very sure, and just hearing the words made him want to balk.

"He sounds impressive," he said, taking great pains to make this a neutral statement rather than one of doubt or agreement. In truth, his own thoughts were turbulent, and his opinion on the matter almost irrelevant. He had not the capacity for the sort of loyalty and admiration that Luhtar possessed for their leader, and no tools with which to determine whether loyalty and admiration were deserved.

But it sounded like fanaticism — and that made him nervous.

"A long time, then?" he supposed, seeking a more direct answer to his question.