Stone Circle stand next to the spire of my crumbling

Wardruna slipped from the den he shares with Noma quietly before the sun has risen, telling her to stay in the lingering warmth of the den and set out to hunt. Ever since Mur’s meddling Wardruna’s pushed himself to his boundaries and then over the edge of them to prove to Noma that he can provide for her. Not that the northerner actually understands why he wants to show her that he can care for her …she’s his thrall and the idea that he wants to prove anything to her would be humorous to him if it wasn’t true. But it is. It’s absolutely true and the ferocious desire does not ebb. Wardruna has hoped that it would pass as their routines returned to normal but it doesn’t. It goes nowhere; and that it remains utterly perplexing and frustrating to him. Wardruna manages to come across a fat fox — a rare sight, he thinks — and his mood lifts as he grasps it’s neck betwixt his jaws: the alignment of bones feeling so fragile in the crush of his teeth as he crushes it’s windpipe and jerks his head back and forth to kill it. The body goes still and then rigid in his grasp and he returns to the den he shares with his thrall. The sun has risen just above the smallest mountain and it works to slowly unthaw the world around them. Wardruna is contented to bask in the warm rays for the moment as he sits the kill down at his paws and lets out a low chuff to wake his thrall if she is not already awake. “@Noma, I have brought you breakfast.” Wardruna’s lilting, accented voice is soft when he speaks and breaks the silence briefly held from his chuff, beckoning her out of the den that the pair call home ( however tentatively ).

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