Stavanger Bay let the fire burn inside you

Kjalarr struggled to understand her words on her slur and accent but he got the gist of what she spoke, his upper lip curling back to expose the pearly white and sharp canines it had hid moments before: an show of aggression; a warning. He didn't care if she needed sleep. The truth was colder and harsher when he understood that he could chase her from these lands until she collapsed of exhaustion: or died of it ...if that was what it took. He gave a stiff flick of his tail, raising it ever so slightly over his back. This had been the home of his birth, his father's legacy and by all rights it belonged to Kjalarr. She cackled — though it was a mad sound to the viking — as she continued to ignore his threats. “Threats? No,” The favorite of the Allfather Odin spoke with a sly smirk tugging wickedly at the corners of his ruined muzzle. “Promises. If you return to these lands I will kill you.” And it was as simple as that. “Now get out.” The young Berserker snapped his teeth at her, a growl rumbling in the strong column of his throat as he ghosted forth: meant to ensure that he would make good on his promises if she did not vacate Stavanger Bay. If she left as she said then he would not follow her past the long since vanished border lines and would return to mind his own business.