Duck Lake weeping willow

Björn felt no offense that the fire kissed Fox found his scars ugly. As he had spoken to her, he came to expect it. It was rare that anyone commented upon them in any other fashion, except perhaps other Vikings who understood his desire to wear his accomplishments as badges of honor upon his face. It took away from the shallow handsomeness that he had once bore - though technically did on his unscarred side of his face. Though Björn was attracted to what was pretty, they never held his interest because his interest waned just as he knew one day beauty would fade. Unnr had been a glorious and stunning sight and would have made him beautiful children - but she had been sickly and unable to bear him any children at all. Sif was stunning herself but his interest in his unbeknownst to his knowledge pregnant gift of a pet had already began to wan before he had departed from Odinn’s Cove.

It would seem that his mention of a throne had captured Fox’s attention for she soon inquired about it after a few moments. “Not around here, no,” Not yet, anyway, Björn replied honestly. He was a master at deception when he had wanted to be but he saw no reason to deceive the fire-kissed maiden before him. For a moment, though, he considered the astuteness of stating where it was that he led. If she knew Sveinn, if he had spoken of Odinn’s Cove, and if Björn was to tell her that was where he led, would she make the connection and tell Sveinn about this meeting? If that happened, Sveinn would know and come looking for him. No, it was better to adopt a moniker for a pack in the same way he had stolen his slain brother’s name. “I led a pack to the far North called Loki’s Keep for a few years.” Perhaps a name was insignificant but Björn stated it anyway as if he was so used to giving the name that it just came out, regardless.