Ankyra Sound What even is my life, lol

you're probably sick of me and kja but this looked lonely & i couldn't resist. :p

 

Fish was not something that Kjalarr enjoyed eating, admittedly. It had become a reluctant staple of his diet during the famine and he'd sworn himself off of it when the prey had begun to return in full force. Most days, since Whittier's death, Kjalarr tried to make a habit of avoiding the beach. There was plenty of the Megalith Forest to keep him from truly needed to venture onto the Sound's beach except when he ran his patrols. Yet, Kjalarr knew that avoiding the beach wasn't going to help him heal from his brother's death. The hardest part of it was done: informing the Frostfur's. He'd visited the stretch of sand, though was, admittedly, unable to remember the exact place where he'd found Whit's body. He'd spent a long time staring out at the sea, wondering how it could spare his own life once but take the life of another. The Fates had dictated that Kjalarr was destined to live a long life while Whittier was not. He would never grow old, never take a mate, never have children, never fall in love. Survivor's guilt tugged like a phantom at Kjalarr's heart for a moment before he pushed it away. It hadn't been his fault. It wasn't his fault.

He had turned away from the sea, his back to the whipping, salty brine as it tousled his fur this way and that, heading towards the tide pools. A familiar shape came into his view: dark against the varying shades of greys that made up the sandy dunes and light water. She was still, her muscles taunt in her concentration. Maude was incredibly focused on her task at that moment and for a second he admired the grace of it. “Maude!” Kjalarr boomed as she lunged for whatever little sea beast she'd been stalking moments before, a grin of cheek spreading across the viking's lips.