Northstar Vale Wuthering

A lifetime of reciting his name with pomp and circumstance should've prepared him for this moment, but when asked his name by the older male, Dag found himself at a loss for words. While this was a strange enough occurance for the young bard, it was made stranger still by his lack of desire to share his name, to be know.

Was he still an Ansbjørn? Could he use that name without shaming his family?

"Dag," he said with a breath like a sigh, but softer than that. "And you, herra?" he inquired, and this was spoken in something that much more resembled his usual friendly candor. He realized that he'd thus far only assumed that the man was leading her. "Am I right to assume you the Herra, here?" he added, tail whisking once more. Of course he was! No one in their right mind would try to be lord over this wolf.