The current at the shallows was not terribly fast and he realized that even in the deeper parts of the river he could easily cross it. He was a strong swimmer from days spent in the sea in Odinn's Cove but there were some currents, even so, that would be powerful enough to sweep him away. Even the sea had the power to snuff out his life like the snipping of a spider web's tether. If Ragnar had taught him anything it was that life was delicate. So easily taken; then again the Gods were good at that. Giving with one hand while they took mercilessly with the other. Týr watched the last streak of mud being carried away by the current as if he found the motion extremely fascinating; in reality he was desperately looking for something, anything to take his mind off of the torrents of emotions that were ravaging his insides. Should have never went there, He scolded himself with a scowl twisting the corner of his lips, staring at his rippling reflection in the water. It only angered him, especially when Thistle admitted that she hadn't told Ragnar about him when Ragnar was the only reason he wanted to visit Stavanger Bay in the first place. He didn't really care about his step mother and step, half siblings whatever it was that they were. Especially not that he had had a falling out with her over her unwillingness to fill him in on family business a family, he felt inclined to remind her, he had been apart of much longer than she. She was new — not him.
Giving his head a quick shake in attempt to dispel those thoughts before they could rouse his anger from it's uneasy and tentative slumber. The last thing he wanted was to keep dwelling upon it until he did go back and do many things everyone would live to regret soon after. He glimpsed up then, ears cupping forth atop his skull at a faint noise and before he knew what he was doing he began to back track, knowing that he needed to stop himself before he hit that point of no return. He wanted her to pay for denying him what he really wanted, and he wanted the annoying child to pay for living (not realizing that it wasn't even Ragnar's — nor that Týr himself wasn't, either). What was Ragnar going to do to him? Kill him? Then he'd be without any sons which was the exact opposite of what all of them knew he wanted. That was all the women were good for to Ragnar, baby making machines, just like Týr's own mother. They were foolish if they thought anything better of the Lodbrok.
He stopped, however, when he lifted his eyes from his paw tracks and caught the glimpse of a red coat on the opposite side of the river bank, downwind of him. Brow furrowed as he continued forward, weary until it sunk in that he recognized her. Tuwawi had told him that Fox had left Swiftcurrent Creek but nothing more and Týr thought that it meant she had left the Wilds period. Fox?
Týr asked, unsure if it was really her or just some kind of illusion though nothing indicated that it was such a thing.
a crime so old as the sky and bone