Duck Lake weeping willow

The fire kissed woman’s eyes could be felt upon his skin in the hot little pricks often accompanied by the feeling of a another’s eyes as they assessed him. It was only fair, Björn rationed, for while she assessed him, he was doing the same. It seemed that his first impression of her was not incorrect and had not been a trick of the light: she was rather small, but Björn put little stock in the height of another. While size did hold it’s own fair share of pros and cons, it was not everything. A duck let out a resounding quack as it waddled in between them, momentarily drawing Björn’s attention before his caribbean blue eyes fell once more upon the fire kissed woman. She did not speak as his bark had broken through the…not necessarily a silence given the feathered creatures that inhabitant the lake, but a silence in thoughts, rather. Her eyes touched his scarred right half, and curiously, Björn waited for some sort of reaction. Repulsion, or fear maybe; those were most of what he received, yet her eyes did not linger and if she thought a certain way about them she was good at keeping it hidden.

Björn's scars were symbolic to his culture - at least the ones on his face were, at any rate. The many that riddled his body beneath the cover of his fur were from spars, challenges, and death-matches.

“Hello,” The common tongue slid from betwixt his lips sounding odd to his own ears despite his fluency in it. The tongue of the Nord’s was much preferred yet he doubted that she would know it, even if he spoke it, besides there wasn’t really a true word for ‘hello’. Out here away from the prying eyes of those in Horizon Ridge, Björn saw no need to play pretend, though he had been careful to wash the scent of them away upon his journey north. He had not expected company but he was always prepared, nevertheless. The fire kissed woman seemed to be a quiet creature, and idly he wondered what she was to the pack his son ran with, and with a slight pang of longing for Sveinn, if she knew his boy. However, these questions would be unsatisfied, for the sake of everyone. “I am Björn.” He offered his name and then fell to the silence, figuring she would either indulge him or she wouldn’t, though he wished that she would, indeed, indulge him.