Horizon Ridge ~Singing softly to the empty night~

Björn noticed that her stare did not linger upon the scars that marred the left ear and half of his face, diminishing what had once been strikingly handsome. He still was - handsome that was - so long as he kept the destroyed left half of his face hidden. Most were repulsed by the pink patches of smooth skin that fur had never grew to conceal but Björn was proud of them - the symbolism of Odinn’s Cove, his accomplishments on display for everyone to see even if they appeared to be nothing more than scars. “I was born among the ice and harshness of the far North,” He told her simply, not because she had asked, but because she had already made the connection likely from his name and accent alone. Idly, he wondered if she was Viking, maybe a shieldmaiden or a slave, though he had a tough time deciding if she was either. Perhaps she was not of his people, but just on the knowledge of them. Their reputation was infamous, the term ‘Vikings’ feared for their habits of raiding - food, lands, treasures, and most assuredly, woman. He tucked her name into his mind, attempting to place it with her scent which, realistically, would not be that hard for him to remember so long as she was still producing the sweet milk for her young that Björn assumed still lived within her rounded sides.

“We have a healer,” Björn informed simply, mind’s eyes flickering to Thistle Cloud briefly. “but we have known a great disaster very recently. A landslide has made part of our territory inaccessible and there are many injured,” Such as Björn himself, though as far as he was concerned he was one of the luckier ones. “There may still be some trapped on the other side, injured. We do not know,” Some went mysteriously missing, and when Thistle ‘discharged’ him from her care he planned to go on a search on the other side of the landslide. “I am sure Pump, the Alpha, will find a second healer to be useful.” Björn mused, despite that in truth he really couldn’t speak for her.

“She should be here soon,” Björn informed the woman - Nuka - contented with keeping her company until Pump appeared. Björn had not turned a deaf ear to the fact that Nuka had spoken of losing her family, and while Björn did not feel pity - it would seem that pity was not in a Viking’s blood - he eyed her up again, eyeing lingering once more upon her swollen teats and rounded sides figuring that she couldn’t be that far off from giving birth (unknowing in his assumption that she already had). “You are expecting,” Björn inquired aloud, stating his assumption to the woman in an unabashed fashion that was typical for the Savage.