afterglow

The boy, Týrr mutely observed, appeared to be quite jumpy. The way in which the younger male scrambled to right himself so that his sensitive belly was not exposed to the Rekkr — who had no interest in attacking him —  quick and hasty left little room for doubt. Despite Týrr's offered chuff of greeting he had managed to startle the boy. The question of who Týrr was was sudden, and before the Rekkr's lips could even so much as part to form a reply to it, another followed soon after. It was rude the Rekkr felt, all things given, the perhaps unintentional demand in the follow up question, especially when they were on free territory and the Rekkr owned the boy no such explanation. What did he want? Many things; all of which Týrr failed to see how it was the boy's business. In the interest of avoiding having a go at him as he had Adlartok so many moons ago now the Rekkr chose to ignore it. Instead he focused upon the more important of the two questions that had fallen from the boy's lips that he chose to acknowledge.

"No, this isn't my land,” Týrr reassured him, keeping his stance neutral in an effort so show that, lest provoked, he had no interest in attacking. He was still healing from his battle with the coast man, and engaging in a battle of any kind would only delay the healing process. Despite that Ragnar was no longer a priority for the Rekkr, he still wished to be fully healed as quickly as was possible. He had things to do, after all, and he wanted to ensure that no one moved in to claim Frostfire Ridge out from under him. The Ridge was his ...or it would be. “The land I am claiming is further North,” Týrr indicated with a jerk of his muzzle in the direction he'd came from, telling the boy in the hopes that he would spread the word. 

Whether to usher in potential recruits, or to keep unwanted intruders out it mattered little. For a moment, the Rekkr contemplated the name he was going to give the boy, seeing as how he was (quite literally) known by numerous names, not unlike the God he enjoyed pretending to be whenever he came in contact with a Stavanger Bay wolf. So many names. Too many. “I am Týrr,” Though he could have given the boy any name. For a second he had considered giving him the name 'Tezca' but in the unlikely chance that Manauia happened to get word of it, the Rekkr resisted. He did not want to give her false hope, after all. “What is your name?” The Rekkr returned in a conversational tone. “Do not apologize,” Týrr spoke in an attempt to hush the child's apologetic rambling. “Then you should rest, regain your strength.” The Rekkr recommended, without knowing why. There was something about the boy that pacified Týrr though he could not place it even if would have wanted too.