Sea Lion Shores the halls of our fathers

A little scatterbrained so not the best post ever lmao.

The questions ate at her. Where were her brothers? Her mother? Her family? It was possible they were dead, but she couldn't find it in her to mourn yet. She was made from sterner stuff than that. And she had survived on her own. Why not them? No, they had to be alive, because they were sons of Ragnar. In their mother they had a Shieldmaiden to protect them, Charon to guide them.

But Charon had guided them wrong. What convinced him to leave their ancestral home?

An ear flicked at the announcement of another's presence and she turned to face him. He was a lean, hard-bitten wolf, but Ragna didn't see the need for caution. If it came to it, she thought she could take him in a fight. In the mean time, he seemed amiable enough. She had questions, now, and perhaps he could answer them.

Mindful of rocks and lumbering sea lions, she closed the distance between them, splashing out from deeper waters. The water still rolled over her paws, enfolding them in a cold comfort. "I'm fine," she said, careful to keep her emotion out of her tone and failing. Ragna was not one for words, for they often betrayed her. They were graceless on her tongue and that, too, frustrated her. But she had to ask, because she had to know. "Do you live there?" she asked first, jerking her head in the direction of the Bay's calmer waters. If he was just a visitor to the shore, he was of no use to her.