Sleeping Dragon i have watched holy men immolate on the banks of Nile

The smoke had not awoken the young Viking, his eyes having already been opened and his mind alive. He’d been watching the sky, lost in thought until the smoke had started to irritate his nose. Scrunching it up, he’d pointed his muzzle towards the mountain’s top and watched it, curious to see what was going on. And then when the earth shook beneath his feet, he’d been dragged down into the dirt, eyes wide and mouth parted to make way for a yelp. Panicked, he’d tried to push himself back up to his feet, but slipped several times and fell right back down. Only after he’d calmed down a bit had he managed to stand up, but that had only taken care of one issue. Immediately after he’d found himself on even ground, his thoughts rushed to Freyja. His worries left him oblivious to Heda’s call, legs carrying him over the land carefully as he sought his sister.

Hvitserk’s ears had remained pinned against his head until he’d located his sister, who had seemed to of been searching for him, too. Not a second was wasted before he’d rushed over to her, nodding and then following her lead. He’d glanced towards the other boy once or twice but otherwise kept his gaze glued to Freyja. The home into which they’d been born was no more, the mountain’s anger having driven the life from it. A pang of sorrow struck his heart, but it hadn’t stuck around for very long. Hvit knew that, no matter where he went or what happened, he’d always find himself at home if Freyja was there with him. Thus, he’d followed her to wherever she might lead them, thinking not about the others.