Mount Apikuni and he walks among his people

it is not long before his path crosses with another. it's never been particularly uncommon in the teekon wilds. and it does not strike the warborn with surprise. mild annoyance, perhaps, but it dissipates when he realizes that she is not familiar. just as he's avoided familiar territories he strives to avoid familiar faces as well. for the moment, at least. it is unlikely he can hide from those that might look upon his face with recognition forever ...but he can keep it up for a while. not that he fears retribution. he is not responsible for the foul deeds the children of his seed wrought upon the wilds. he wasn't a father to either of them. perhaps, he allows, that is most of their issue. because he wasn't a father. third time's the charm, he thinks. perhaps the next batch will turn out better. he is brought from his thoughts as her chuff penetrates the silence the envelops the mount in a chilling and ghostly silence. an ear twitches in her direction and then his gaze follows. her pelage is composed of warm, earthy colors. a stark contrast to his the cold platinum, broken only by light sand stockings, of his own. the northman draws in her scent, noting the lingering scent of others. not many but some.

scarred muzzle lifts ever so slightly as he draws in another breath, assessing. analyzing. kjalarr does not move nearer and for a moment contemplates not offering her any words. "what do you want?" he eventually inquires. it is spoken simply and without the infliction of annoyance as those particular order of words might normally be spoken.