Horizon Ridge Stubborn is as Stubborn does (Bjorn)

Björn, despite leaving Odinn’s Cove in the cusp of his younger brother’s paws, still considered himself the Jarl of Odinn’s Cove, though in truth, he only held that rank when he was actively leading the Cove, and of the moment, at the Allfather’s urging, he was not actively leading anything. That title held no weight among these wolves here, but it still held weight in Björn’s heart. It was easy to forget that before slaughtering his brother for a woman whom had held his attention only fleetingly that Björn had just been a Berserker - a ‘blood-frenzy’ warrior. Important in the same way that Thistle was, needed, but not a leader. “I do,” Björn responded to her, managing to allow his thoughts to wander while keeping up with their current topic of conversation at the same time. At Thistle’s questioning of Valhalla and Ragnarøkkr a laugh bubbled up the strong column of the Viking’s throat and tumbled from his lips. “You’ve mistaken me, maiden,” Björn’s caribbean blue eyes, warmed by the mirth Thistle’s confusion had spurred within him. “I meant you could think of Ragnarøkkr as purging and rebirth of the world.” Björn clarified. “I do not know if those who are not Vikings by the rite of passage go to Valhalla, I have never been there myself.” Obviously, it was one of the places where the dead went when the grim reaper came knocking at their doors.