Wheeling Gull Isle i count the final seconds

lol @ that gif!!!! this was a perfect gif for kja at this moment, haha

“I have a name,” The Viking spoke to her, voice soft but loud enough that it would carry back to her, his words carefully chosen. “you will call me Kjalarr or nothing at all.” He was growing tired of her insults ...although he couldn't claim there was any truth behind her “endearment” of calling him 'daddy's boy'. He barely remembered Ragnar: he only knew the man through the stories he'd gotten Thistle to tell him and from his völva dreams; but in truth the man behind the legend that was his father was very much a mystery to Kjalarr. Yet, as of the moment, Kjalarr didn't harbor the patience to correct her. Nor did he think he really wanted her to know. He was beginning to learn that assumptions were sometimes better ...and aided causes ...better than the truth. He was sorely tempted to turn around and pin her to the dirt riddled with sand beneath their paws as he led them deeper into the wilds of the Isle, to skim her throat with his teeth to prove that he would make good on his promise. That it had not been an empty threat, but for the sake of “comradeship” (if it could even be called that) he made a visible effort to “be good”.

“Don't worry,” The northman cooed, inclining his head to peer at her from the corner of his eye though she was little more than a shadow against the other shadows. “you are making it very tempting.” He side-stepped a tree he was gaining upon, pausing only briefly to sniff at it's trunk before he licked his chops and pushed forth, letting out a low rumble of discontent. Even further inland the scents were faded. He suspected that she was speaking the truth: the wolves that had once claimed this land were long gone but he would never be satisfied with speculation.