Ravensblood Forest the heart won't lie

Once more Björn found himself in the forest that the locals of these Teekon Wilds called Ravensblood Forest. He had first found himself drawn to the saccharine temptations of the darkened woods when he had sought a sacrifice to the Allfather, Odinn (that he was unaware had been witnessed by another) of the cougar’s child. Without it’s mother - of which had been killed by a bear - it would not have survived anyhow but in the less specific scale of things, Björn was as ruthless as the whispers about his ‘people’ said making him a Viking to the very core of his being. He spared none - child, nor woman; not even on the raids unless they had potential as slaves. To some, it did not matter that he eventually set his slaves free. No, that significant fact was often overlooked on the whole ‘raid, kill, etc’ scale. But Björn did not care. Odinn had demanded the sacrifice and Björn had given it to him. It was, really, as simple as that.

This time, he was drawn to the forest named to his tastes Ravensblood. Pump required a portion of this forest for Horizon Ridge to supplement what they had lost in the landslide, despite that Björn thought that it might be better for Horizon Ridge to become Ravensblood Forest and be done with it. In the heart of the trees, shrouded in the alluring mystery of it all, if another landslide were to occur it likely would not affect them as it had so, again. It was clear that while the hybrid shield maiden and him had their similarities, they also had their differences. Björn desired the forest because he saw it as holy land. Odinn’s forest. Each step he made further into the forest was a step upon sacred land and shivers of excitement and perhaps, anticipation slithered along the strong curve of the savage’s spine.

Björn was both eyeing the land for himself, and scouting it for Pump at the same time, torn between if he wanted to branch off or, eventually, challenge her. There was an actual moment of honest trepidation at the consideration of challenging for the helm. Björn had come to respect her, and things were different than when he had challenged his older brother, of whose name he bore as a moniker, and truly he did not want her death or absolute defeat. Tucking those thoughts away for later examination - for first he had to gain her trust and the trust of the others and see himself in the Beta rank before he made extensive plans - and paused, brushing his uninjured shoulder against the rough bark of a tree, letting his scent upon it, wondering how many times he would keep having to do this until Pump decided to actually claim some of it, when a scent tickled his leathery, black nostrils.

Female, with the scent of multiple others clinging to her coat, hinting at the sweet scent that clung to Nuka of babies and a mother’s sweet milk. In one good whiff he had deduced some about the pack she was apart of though he remained unaware of it’s name.

With curiosity as his God (it was one of Odin’s “powers” anyway) Björn wasted no time pushing through the thick trees, brush and debris upon the earthen floor until he found her, mocha and sand colored, resting among the shade of the green canopy above. Ice eyes studied her lavishly, interest piqued as it always was among the opposite sex, scarred and unscarred ears trusting forth as he let out a bark to announce his presence as he stepped into the small clearing she had temporarily claimed as her resting spot.