Stone Circle i do not deserve to be a phoenix, i deserve to be consumed

Wardruna does not say anything as she moves away from him a little bit into their short journey to the food cache. There is a terse flick of his tail against his hocks, a ruffle of his hackles that could easily be dismissed as the chilly wind ruffling his fur. There’s a method to his madness but he does not feel very inclined to share it with her. Perhaps, in time. Perhaps. There is no telling what future that the Fated Three have spun for him ( and by proxy her ), but now that she’s broken contact with him she is hidden from his sight and though it goes against all of his rules he does not move, does not herd her to in front of him or to his right side. He can hear her steps beside him: a second drumbeat upon the earth and as displeased as she may or may not be with her predicament — though it occurs to Wardruna that it’s possible she does not quite understand what they’ve agreed to ) the northerner does not think she’ll run away. Mostly because she’s in no physical condition to do so.

Wardruna glimpses at her as she roots herself firmly in place as the duo reach the cache and he can’t help the teasing of a smirk upon his lips. There it was. There was the good thrall. He turns to the cache and goes for the freshest meat first, plucking the meat right from the top. He nears her and places the meat upon the ground with a bow of his head before he noses it towards her. “Eat, Noma.” He encourages but the underlying command is there, laced through the encouraging tones that ring in his lilting, accented tenor. He turns to the cache again and digs through it a bit taking the oldest meat for himself figuring it would do better to eat that up first. It’s a very poor substitute for fresh kill but Wardruna’s left himself with little choice; besides his odds of succeeding in his hunts is not very good at the moment and will likely remain so until he's gotten more practice at functioning without the vision in his left eye.