Broken Antler Fen J'attendrai

Through the water, as if by some odd circumstance, Nails saw him glide. His brother, a brutish bull of a wolf, sliced through rippling fog with a rare and uncharacteristic grace. Nails stilled, pinning his ears forward as as he caught the bearwolf in his cautious periphery. Eyes met, if only briefly, before Thorn seized the moment, surging forward with jaws wide like some hungry alligator from some warm and musty swamp.

The Eyjolfur's had always been an opportunistic bunch.

Shared blood aside, Nails often found his siblings difficult to read. Dullards, he supposed, though, he assumed that of most. However, they spoke the language of violence so fluently that Nails could not deny it as anything other than a stroke of natural genius. An inherent gift, intrinsic within the Eyjolfur clan itself. Though smaller, weaker, than the rest of his kin -- Nails was no pushover. Lips peeled back in a ugly snarl before laying into his brother's surprise assault. Wrestling in the water, a bid for dominance played out.