Swiftcurrent Creek you call out

Fox did not give any more than a thoughtful noise shortly after Týr had finished explaining to her what the word meant. Týr was not particularly bothered by her appearing to be lack of interest in his language, but he was contented that she did not vocalize any sort of dislike either. Týr took this to mean that it was ok for him to continue calling her by the title known by his culture. In this, it would be easier for him to establish that connection of leader and subordinate given that he could now apply the term ‘alpha female’ to his own words. Of course Týr understood what it meant regardless, but it was more …comfortable this way. “I have, yes,” Týr informed her, with a thoughtful twitch of his lips upwards ever so slightly. “We are both Northerners, and in this they are similar but still unique.” In a way that made them sort of like regional kin of sorts, or at least this was how Týr chose to view it, despite the differences between Njal’s language (and culture, likely) and his own.

Silence fell upon Týr then, and the Nord shifted his weight, clearing his throat - not that he had anything of any particular interest to say. “How are your wounds?” He inquired politely then, as his crystal eyes skimmed the marks that were visible to him before he diverted his eyes, in a manner that was relatively akin to demure. Týr did not know much of medicines which meant that he was generally useless when it came to tending to wounds, but it felt like a considerate thing to inquire about (of course he could have very well been dead wrong). “How did you acquire them …if I may inquire?” It was not any of his business, as he had ascertained earlier, but curiosity was a damning thing.