(J) salt in your blood

Two more seagulls joined the first screeching in unintelligible discord to the Tiny Viking who paid them attention only because they alerted him to the fact that there was something in the shadow of the barnacle encrusted bolder he otherwise, typically ignored. Or maybe it hadn’t been the seagulls at all but Freyja’s or Frigg’s divine intervention. Sköll had no way to absolutely no for sure — it wasn’t as if the Gods were known for giving clear, decisive messages — or maybe that was just the Seers with their enigmatic at best answers. Regardless, something had encouraged Sköll to bravely investigate that which was presently strange. The third seagull which had been closer to him as he cautiously neared the boulder took flight upon his approach, the others rising to join it, briefly claiming the Tiny Viking’s attention as he watched them go with unveiled disgust on his face.

The sound of movement against the sand, brief though it was, roughly yanked the Tiny Viking’s attention back to the lump covered in sand only to see it weakly move. If he’d have looked away for even so much as a second longer he would have missed it entirely and might have passed the noise as nothing more than the softened rushing of the waves as they foamed and receded back to the collective body of water they yawned from. A leg presented itself from the shadows, encrusted with salt water and sand but it was definitely a leg and in a moment of sheer excitement his heart beat leapt into a frantic rhythm within it’s prison of flesh and bone until panic struck him in the next. It was a leg. Which meant that it was connected to a wolf. A wolf that did not seem to be in the best of conditions presently. For a moment Sköll hesitated unsure what to do. He could howl for someone but the language barrier that separated him from most of the others would only prove to make his telling of the news difficult. Maybe even impossible.

Cautiously, the Tiny Viking moved nearer to the shape and nudged it with his nose, in the weak hope that he could rouse it to awaken or rise or something. He pulled back unsure if he was allowed to touch it more than he already had (some wolves liked their space after all) and they were quintessential strangers even though his healer instincts begged him to draw closer to aid in any way that he potentially could.