afterglow

Týrr did not often willing stray too far from the Glacier; not even now that it was a kingdom fallen. The truth was without the Glacier in his life — something solid and real he felt lost. The Glacier had been a safe haven for him, a tethering point so that he did not lose himself in the wisps and sometimes rushes of memories that were old despite their newness to him. Tezcacoatl was trying to be remembered, attempting to claw his way out of the darkest recesses of the Rekkr's mind that the amnesia had locked him in. Even within the ruins of what had once been Týrr, drawn in by Tuwawi's fire despite that she was missing, lingered close, eye upon claiming the Glacier's neighbor Frostfire Ridge. He could not directly dishonor either Tuwawi or Njal (despite the tension between them during their last meeting) by outright re-claiming the Glacier; yet he wished to stay close. There was sentiment there, and in the case that Tuwawi came back he did not want to be too far from what had been home to the both of them. Claiming, and rousing those that remained in the ashes of their once pack to stand behind him as their King would not be easy, of this the Rekkr had no disillusions. So fiercely he had followed Tuwawi, without question, that he was not even sure they would be willing to follow him. He had not only advocated that she re-claim her throne he had encouraged it, though this was not with regret. Even now, he still felt the hooks of his infatuation with the Wildfire Queen, knowing that if she ever returned and if she came to him he would take her into their fold with open arms. With him, she would always have a home should she want it — to the Rekkr this was only meager to what she had done for him, giving him a home when he had nothing. 

Despite his unwillingness to stray too awfully far from the Ridge, his intended claim, he ventured out early – before the sun had risen into the horizon. There was much work to be done in claiming and in recruitment alone and though the gravity that lulled him back to his Ridge was strong, he chose to studiously ignore it as he went out to track the movement of herds – food for he and his; and to perhaps stumble across lone wolves in search of a place to call home. Whether the latter was successful or not didn't matter much to him this day for his initial departure was to track the herds. He needed something to focus his attention and energies upon, or he ran the risk of feeling like he was going insane. Týrr drew in a deep breath, tepid and pungent with the scent of dampened earth. Spring was finally upon them – had been for a small measure of time already. This was a good sign to the Rekkr, who knew from experience in Odinn's Cove, namely, that activity picked up in the Spring and Summer. Lone wolves seeking homes, children being born (this particular instance was not a near future  Týrr could foresee for the Ridge if he could get enough to follow him at that). This was enough to muster hope within the injured Rekkr's breast, the jerk of his head to the side at the soft 'click' of joints from a nearby herd as they presumably grazed upon the heather and wild grasses of the meadow causing him to visibly flinch as it pulled at the scabbing wounds upon his neck.

He was not yet back to full force, though his wounds had ceased to hurt and had begun to itch as they healed, expose to the open air to aid the process along. It was slow, but  Týrr had patience enough to see it done right. This held very true for his intentions with Frostfire Ridge; and for Ragnar — who luckily was not much of a priority currently in between discreetly searching for Tuwawi, trying to claim and recruit for the Ridge, and nursing his wounds back to health. A scent wafted towards him them, raising the Rekkr from the sea of his thoughts, crystalline blue eyes landing upon the source of the scent in question.  He was closing the distance with a rapidness, Týrr realized, steps slowing and then ceasing all together as he studied the presumably young male who was laying with his belly up among the grasses. As to not startle the other, lest he happened to not pay attention as Týrr himself had been, the Rekkr let out a soft chuff of greeting.