Jade Fern Grove the sun hasn't died

Ever since the incident with the bear and the sea there was little but upheaval in Jorunn's world. Things had looked up when Scimitar and Bazi took him in, his oath to Bazi always at the forefront of Jorunn's mind these days, eager to avoid the bear and to ...not forget about his family but to move on from them and the horrid memory he now associated with them. They were far away from him now, unreachable and none had come to find him. Jorunn still didn't quite grasp the concept of death but when he did he would come to the realization that they likely thought him such — hence why no search party had been sent out to find the young Stavanger Prince. In the chaos of the tornado — the unreal fear that had gripped him like an icy clawed hand around his heart when he saw the thing (not to mention heard it, it was loud enough to wake the dead), and the ruin it had caused in it's path, coupled with the fire that had followed soon after was almost (almost) enough to rival his fear of bears. During this time of travel, Jorunn had turned four months old — but he did not speak anything about it. Once, he would have made it known quite obnoxiously but that had been a different Jorunn. A Jorunn that did not exist any longer, had been killed the moment the sea had drug him under. Instead, the young Lodbrok had celebrated it in silence, pretending the meat he'd been given was of the finest cut — a special birthday meal. It was silly, he knew, but he could not quite turn off his egotistical tendencies. 

Absently, and not for the first time, as they marched on — on and on — Jorunn wondered what his mother would think of him if she could see him now. Last she'd seen him, he'd been bossy. An a+ class brat. Selfish. The center of attention; disobedient. Now ...he obeyed Scimitar and Bazi. He let their children get food first and took what was left — even managed to teach himself how to hunt small woodland creatures. On his best behavior. A different boy than he'd been; though this was largely at this point (for he'd become quite comfortable around them) because he wasn't blood and Bazi's scare tactic; but also because the tragedies in his life had forced the young legend to mature rapidly. He felt older than four months; though his phase of rapid body growth reminded him frequently that he wasn't as old as he felt, as his maturity painted him to be.

Jorunn was tired when they finally stopped, the other children already gathered close to Scimitar when he arrived, his Caribbean blue eyes with a ring of starbursting silver around the pupil studied each of their monochrome forms in turn before settling up, upon their patriarch. At least wandering for his own for a small bit, until Scimitar had found him, had been something of preparation for this move. For him, it was tiring, yes, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. He was quiet for a moment before he turned his eyes away and looked at the unfamiliar landscape that spread out before them. For a few seconds he squinted, determining that the shapes in the monochrome distance were trees — lots of them. Was this to be their new home he desired to ask but respectfully resisted the urge.