underwater

The viking decided he loved this life of freedom, although he did miss companionship. It was instinct, wolves were social creatures after all, it was in their nature. He himself loved company and so, even when he was a lone wolf without a pack, he sought for others of his kind. The trickster traveled for a few days to the north of the meadow, Caspian had always been drawn to the north, the colder areas and the seas. He supposed it was in his blood, a northern viking, and the way he was raised. The Scandinavian had never known the southern lands until he chose to leave his natal pack, his own mother, born from the warmer lands chose to spend the rest of her life with his father, and though she shared stories of her childhood with him, his northerner eyes had never seen them himself.

But now he did, and such beautiful lands they were, rich grassy rolling hills, teeming with prey and life. So much life. Softer lands, and green ones, ones that had never truly known winter, but beautiful nonetheless. A gentler beauty, unlike the harsher and fiercer ones of his fatherland.

The Ironfrost arrived at an icefield, drawing a large grin onto his hardened features and a warm chuckle. It was some part of home, after all, and the viking still missed the family he had left behind. Then his keen blue eyes spotted a form, not far away, he was about to shout and greet whoever that was when the other wolf slumped down. Though trained not to show mercy to his enemies, he had always been compassionate, a trait he shared with his twin and mother and so it was normal for him to run to strangers who seemed to be hurt and ask if he could help.

And that was what he did now. Trotting towards the boy's form, he asked in a gentle, lightly accented tone, "Hey kid, you alright?" He'd learnt that most of the inhabitants of this wild spoke English, thank Odinn his mother taught him that language or he would be hopeless here.