Stavanger Bay let the fire burn inside you

The monochrome colored woman, dappled by the shadows of the darkness and the silvery light of the moonlight — a varied scale of black, white and various shades of gray that Kjalarr could see lowered her head, and spoke once more in her strange accent though it was her words of not being the one responsible for his anger and that he should calm himself were the only words he paid attention to. His upper lip curled back from his teeth. “I don't know that,” He countered her with a lash of his tail. “You were close enough to hear me, weren't you?” He challenged her words, suspicious, but then realized he couldn't just run around accusing every wolf he came across. He sighed, and lifted his lip in discontent for a moment. “You don't understand. This grave was my father's. This Bay belonged to him.” Kjalarr told her whether she cared or not; this bay belongs to my family. “Someone has desecrated it and they will pay.” Ragnar may have been feasting and fighting in Valhalla, but all of Kjalarr's memories of the Jarl were borrowed memories: all of which Thistle had spoken to him when he'd eagerly asked about his enigmatic father.

Knowing Ragnar's skeleton was buried in the soil of the Bay, that which according to Thistle had been sacred to Ragnar, had given Kjalarr some connection to him, allowed him to feel close to him even if it was just that: a feeling. A shallow comfort; and now someone had torn even that from him. “So if you've just come to antagonize me I suggest you make the wise decision to leave me be.” Kjalarr wasn't going to put up with it. He'd given her warning and if she did not heed it then he would take action against her. He was angry but too many scents had come and gone and faded for him to discern anything concrete. For now, he would vent out his anger at Ragnar, at the grave robbers, at Charon and Floki and Thistle Cloud, at himself and then when he was free of it he would return home to Saltwinter; but his anger was his own and certainly nothing he was willing to share with this strange woman before him.