Mount Apikuni and he walks among his people

kjalarr notes the amiable wag of her tail with an idle flick of an ear. the northman accepts it for what it is: a show that she does not desire to fight or challenge. which is good; for the both of them. kjalarr's moods are mercurial as the sea these days. calm one moment and harsh with fury the next. as a lone wolf he could not truly afford recovery time from a fight ... but he would not back down from one if it arose, either. kjalarr is a survivor and he would find a way to survive. yet, she keeps her tone light. she is treading carefully. a smart move. despite her statement that her pack is close she does not call for them and for a moment the scarred northman wonders if she is using them as a deterrent. he does not fear being outnumbered. he does not fear death. death in battle is glory for his culture. to sup in the hall of vahalla, to join his father ...and his daughters. what fierce shield-maidens he imagines them to be.

it almost sounds tempting.

but kjalarr does not wish to sup with the gods, his father and his daughters yet. not until he's lived a full, long and prosperous life. he was too tenacious to settle for anything less. he lets out a small snort then, swings his head back in the direction he'd been originally heading and ventures opposite of her.