Horizon Ridge i do like to be beside the seaside

Björn’s scarred ear twitched absently when Bazi spoke that her mother might have liked to have been a Viking, and Björn let out a soft snort, breath pushing out of his black, leathery nostrils. “Maybe she was,” Only a Viking was considered one in truth when they had gone through the rite of passage but Viking blood was Viking blood and could, nor would it be, disputed between them. “Ruthless,” Björn repeated, as if the word brought back some fond memory. “Fear is more potent than love, but it is important to be fair, too.” Björn spoke from experience. He was ruthless, dangerous, and many more demonic-like things, but he was fair to his wolves while he led the Cove. He was fair because he remembered what it was like to be just another Berserker - expendable if he died on a raid. His life had mattered in some semblance, but he had not been important until he gained the title of Jarl with his brother’s warm life blood spilling freely in a puddle around his paws, covering him from nose to tail with warm, sticky crimson.

“There are many Halls in the afterlife, Valhalla is merely one of them, but for a warrior like me, yes. A place in Valhalla is what I am working for in all things.” He responded. It was important to think about death, but earning his way into Valhalla was only one of his goals. Keeping Odinn’s favor, earning his way to the Beta position, the official Warden co-rank, and eventually starting a Viking pack within these lands were the current focuses of his attentions.