Dawnlark Plains blinding light raging down from the sky

For @Scimitar ! Also this post is in correlation to my future post in his thread with Atreyu x Floki and Bear but this thread is a few days after (to give him enough time to get to Dawnlark Plains)...hopefully this is realistic, lol. I tried to make it as realistic as I could for a puppy of 2 months. xD

The details had been fuzzy when Jorunn had woken up on the sandy shores of the ankyra sound, soaking wet and vomitting up large quantities of sea water. At first he was confused, his nose full of nothing but the brine of salt water that he couldn't decipher if he was still in Stavanger Bay or not, and too busy vomiting to go looking for 'Tre and his twin. After he vomited up the water he'd swallowed, coughing until he was able to take a deep, generous and gasping air of breath the young legend weakly looked around him, realizing that the sea must have carried him away from Stavanger Bay because nothing struck him as overly familiar. Jorunn jumped at the sound of a bird taking off in flight from nearby, ears splaying to either side of his head as he squinted against the harsh light of the day, trying to decipher if he'd escaped the bear or not. The last thing he could remember was Atreyu retreating back to protect Floki as the bear had drawn nearer to Jorunn. The betrayal stung deep within the young Viking's chest though he had no word for it, and in the last ditch effort to preserve his life he remembered fearlessly diving into the reaching waves of the ocean (never mind that he hadn't been taught how to swim), though the powerful currents had sucked him out and into the sea. 

Easily he could have died numerous times and while the threat hadn't been near being over his developing survival instincts had began to kick in. Water (but not the icky stuff he'd just spent a good five minutes vomiting) and food. He needed those things; and he was no hunter still too young to hunt and provide for himself. Still, he knew what he needed to do without knowing how knew it. Though he had collapsed several times when he'd first tried to regain his footing, his legs trembling from exertion he finally was able to stabilize himself and began seeking out a non-icky water source. Despite that he was scared and tired he was determined not to show it as he screwed up his face. 

His days went like that, searching for water and scraps of carcasses left by other predators and picked nearly clean by scavengers; but that was what he was now a scavenger, and his nights were spent curled in a tightly enclosed space that he could find, though he did not sleep soundly. Jorunn was miserable and he was hungry by the time he'd reached Dawnlark Plains. He had lost weight from picking at the measly, and half rotted scraps he could find though they barely left anything for him, his body thinned out in a way that was clearly not natural for a child of his age. He missed fresh meat, he missed eating as much as he wanted, and he missed his family, missed the feeling of security that he no longer had. That he was still alive was likely a miracle in and of itself, especially because his monochromacy did not allow him to see well during the day, but Jorunn was too stubborn to die; too stubborn and would Ragnar have been there, blessed by the Gods; though the young legend felt anything but blessed. Bravely, he kept pushing on hoping that he might find his way back home again ...not that he had any idea where home was. For all he knew he washed up on an entirely different world (and to him that was what it felt like).