Horizon Ridge I Never Had

Björn had been sleeping on and off, pausing to bite at the fur near his wound when it would itch, still caked with dried blood. No amount of his grooming really got it cleaned of matted blood stained fur. The Viking had never asked Thistle Cloud but he suspected the drowsiness was because of the painkillers and fever reducers he was given, or maybe it was her way of keeping under surveillance. If he was asleep, or hindering on the edge of it at most times, he wasn’t going to get up against doctors’ orders and risk doing anything to his wound. Björn was not concerned about it, but it was ….nice to know that someone cared enough to do what needed to be done to make sure he was complacent. Not for the first time, Björn had the idea that Thistle would make a good Shieldmaiden if she were to become a Viking. Not one by blood, but a learned one just as Sveinn was. So long as the Rite of Passage was undertaken and passed anyone could become one of them. It had been hours since his last medicine had been taken and slowly, determined to shake off any left over slumber, Björn rose, mindful of the rudimentary wrappings that protected his wound from further infection, and began in the direction a sickening crack - likely the result of a snapping neck - soon followed by the scent of fresh blood as Björn made his way towards where the noise had originated from.

With the other locked in caribbean blue gaze Björn let out a gruff bark to announce his presence to the other as he moved behind him, subtly trying to hide his limp despite that the wrappings clinging to his fur gave his injury away. Björn would only stop working when he was dead, and Odinn be good to him that would not happen for many years.