Jade Fern Grove stand up and hold your ground

Jorunn eagerly returned to his patrol when Kaskara gave him the go-ahead with a gesture, relieved that he didn't have to focus too much upon courtesy words such as please and thank you for too long. For some reason, he felt awkward when he used them, even though they were sincere. By this point, he was used to being polite well enough, but it wasn't something the viking in him was used to doing; and perhaps there would always be a part of Jorunn that would be barbaric and a heathen by nature. What he was, in truth, was something learned, surely, but also in his blood, as well. Generations of those that called themselves vikings was in his DNA and though his personality had certainly shifted upon being adopted by Scimitar and Bazi, being morphed into something different that it'd previously been on a crash course with, he was his late father and grand-father's progeny ...even if he didn't realize it, or if he ever came to re-learn it. He remembered little of his biological family having been taken from them so young, so to know about his heritage and to explain some of his tendencies he would have to eventually find them, though he never intended too.

After all, as far as Jorunn was aware, they didn't want him. They didn't appear to make any effort to really find him. Now that he was old enough to discern such a thing it was likely they thought he died when the sea pulled him under. Nevermind that he, truly, was Ragnar's son and death would not so easily take him, never mind that Jorunn was made of tougher stuff than that. He'd been fortunate. Lucky, even. “Yes,” Jorunn responded, and then hesitated for a few seconds before he cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. “I know I probably shouldn't be running the patrols alone,” He was growing, yes, and he likely needed the experience that came along with guarding them alone (after all it was unlikely he would have company when he was an adult), “but I know what to do if a stranger approaches.” He also had imagined the scenario in which a loner or stranger tried to use his youth against him. Diplomacy was, perhaps, not yet among Jorunn's skill sets but perhaps charisma was something that would come naturally to him. He was young, not stupid after all. If the situation would to ever appear like it was getting out of his control he was to call for an adult, he knew.

Part of Jorunn was itching to actually put his plan into action, to have a real circumstance in which he truly got to be a warden but so far the borders had been and appeared to be quiet.