Wheeling Gull Isle i count the final seconds

I went ahead and modified this to tack on an ending so it can be archived. c:

She tested out his name, butchering it with her heavy accent and Kjalarr attempted and failed to stifle his annoyance at her, letting out an miffed huff, the muscles beneath his shoulders tensing as he kept pushing forward. “Kah-ya-lah-arr.” He repeated his name, sounding it out for her so she, he hoped, didn't continue to mispronounce it. It wasn't her fault that dream Ragnar had given him a hard name to say, but it was more suiting that Jorunn had ever been, and Tevinter had been a place holder as he struggled to find his identity. Kjalarr had felt so natural that if he wouldn't have known better he might have allowed himself to think that it was his name given at birth. Except some family still called him Jorunn and others called him Tevinter, reminding him of both pieces of the jagged puzzle that was the Viking's past.

“Maybe I'll just call you pest, hmm?” He spared her a quick side glance from the corner of his eye before his head whipped back so that he was facing his chosen path. It wasn't very fair that he ask her to call him by his name while he refused to address her as her given name ...but somehow, Kjalarr managed to convince himself of it's fairness, even if there was nothing fair to be found in it. Still, he tucked the name Maude into the recesses of his mind, in case he needed it. 

“Do you think they would have left anything useful to us behind?” Kjalarr asked her next, not wanting to out right admit that she was right: so much so that he went to painful lengths to avoid it. “Any caches they might not have emptied or the like?” Kjalarr waited for her response and when it came he begrudgingly allowed her to take the lead, the pair collecting what scraps they could to take back to Saltwinter.