Fox's Glade a poem in which i am neither a monster nor a martyr

:D! Sure thing! I'll get us a thread started in Easthollow asap!

Wardruna’s jack-o-lantern gaze flickers like the color’s namesake as he watches her give a full-body tail wag as he bestows it upon her. Wardruna has always believed in the importance of names — not unsurprising as his culture does not name children until they are one month of age and once the babes bare names they are therefore protected …but during the period of being unnamed they can be left for dead by the parents or killed by a fellow clansman without consequences; though, from what he saw it was only actually the goði that actually took advantage of that ( and occasionally a jealous lover ). Names could pre-determine a child’s path, their behavior. In Wardruna’s mind it expanded beyond the basic rights and protection that a name offered a child in his culture; and this belief extends to adults, too. He calls one of his thralls fate and the other the goddess of death, both fitting to the women that bears the name, in his opinion.

She dips her head at him and he circles around her and nudges her forward with a gentle bump of his nose to her left hip. ‘I will guide you in the right direction,’ it is meant to encourage; but he’d like to keep her in his line of view at all times all the same.