Stavanger Bay Here I stand wearing my heart on my sleeve

At the mention of his wound, Atreyu ducked his head, trying to shield it from view however that was near impossible in the sunlight — especially since he was facing an experienced healer. Even though Ragnar had indeed told him to seek out Thistle for it, he didn't really have any intention to. He had washed it off in the ocean, that was enough, right? What Atreyu didn't realise, though, was the dirt that had gotten inside that had blackened the edges of the scrapes and made it itchy, something that even the ocean could not get rid of.

At her offer, he glanced back up, wondering how such a light-hearted wolf became the wife of someone as intense as the Jarl. Obviously, though, the boy was unaware of the current troubles in the relationship of the leaders. His ears perked as she spoke, mentioning the forest. He felt slightly offended. How could anyone choose the forest over the ocean? "I washed it," Atreyu said, forcing a reassuring smile, still hesitant to let another touch it, even someone as seemingly gentle as Thistle. What if she had to reopen it and he yelped in response? He didn't want to appear weak, especially in the presence of the Alpha's mate. "I fought a wolverine," he added after a pause, for some reason feeling it necessary to include how he had gotten scratched up...even if it was a lie.