where we got left to run

Slight pp of Scimitar — I'll gladly change it if you wish! c:

Jorunn had been uncharacteristically quiet as he followed along behind Scimitar, head and shoulders slumped as he shuffled, obediently, along. Jorunn on what was surely his best behavior yet was caused by a mixture of things though mainly his exhaustion and the fact that he was not comfortable around Scimitar enough yet both battled for the role of top reason. Perhaps his silence was setting a bad precedent, considering he was not, in any form of the word, quiet by nature; a false expectation of him. For the moment, he adopted it as a quality. He had nothing further to say or ask to Scimitar, deciding that it was easier to just tag along and skip the questions for when he had some (hopefully) real food in his belly and some decent rest. The idea of sleeping around wolves he didn't know didn't necessarily strike fear within him but it heightened his instinctual sense of caution. Scimitar was the first wolf that Jorunn had met that wasn't apart of Stavanger Bay — the first stranger; but would not be his last this day. Distrust was in his nature now. The bear had admittedly shaken him up and had given him an unfortunate dose of reality before he'd truly been ready to bear it. Whatever life he'd lived in Stavanger Bay was dead now — just as the Jorunn he'd once been was dead. All he knew was that he wanted to train, to make himself strong ...like Scimitar appeared to be. Like Atreyu. Like Ragnar had been, from Thistle's stories. Maybe if he could, despite that he was hindered by the time it would take for his body to grow into it's adult size, he might be able to prevent something like this happening again.

Maybe he could find that bear and fight it; become a bear slayer. Wrapped up in his fantasies as Jorunn was, he was startled to find that they'd stopped when he bumped his head into Scimitar's back leg. Giving his head a shake he stumbled back a few swaggering steps offering the older male a sheepish look. “Sowwy.” It was the first word he'd spoken since they'd left Dawnlark Plains, and possibly the first time he'd ever apologized in his life. He watched as Scimitar crossed over the borders, which Jorunn could smell, though he offered a nod of his head to show that he was paying attention and understood when Scimitar explained what they meant. He was inquisitive by nature but bit back his questions for the moment by biting lightly on his bottom lip as he crossed over it, sniffing eagerly at the unfamiliar territory and scents. The scents of Stavanger Bay had long since been washed off of him and  he sniffed at a golden blonde foreleg, allowing his curiosity to get the better of him for a moment. Like a child that might find a crayon appetizing he licked his leg, crinkling his muzzle in distaste making a 'yuck' noise as he stuck his tongue out, scraping it against his teeth as if it would rid him of the taste of sea water, among other things that clung to him. 

Scimitar released a howl into the air, causing Jorunn's ears to splay back against his skull as his eyes furiously scanned the unfamiliar terrain for any signs of approach. While he could hear Bazi's approach, he could not immediately see it, her ivory form blurring into the monotone grays of the landscape, unaided by the speed in which she came towards the two. He took a cautious step back as her footfalls rapidly approached, followed by heavy pants, unsure about her. He blinked up at Scimitar when her voice reached him and reluctantly he looked for her, finding her outline and the subtle shadows of her form to give her shape. She was like Atreyu — initially hard to find; but now that he knew she was there and closer than she'd been before he was able to pick out shaded details. Figuring that her question hadn't been aimed towards him, he kept to his silent demeanor, assuming that it was something the adults needed to talk about; but his ears rose slowly from his skull curious about the words they would exchange with one another in regards to him.