Jade Fern Grove the gods envy us

it was the sound of her footfalls the clued arinbjorn in on her approach. the silence of inland — though not necessarily silent silent — was near deafening, absent the ever-present roar of the unquiet sea as it crashes relentlessly upon sandy shores and against rockcliffs. so who are you? she asks, as if who he was mattered ...except, it did matter. to him, at least and to those who knew of the cairns. he acknowledges her question with a studious sweep of his mercurial gaze but does not answer right away.

the melancholic temperament left him a quiet mood where, more oft than not he was content not to speak; but if there was one thing he's learned about the wolves of these wilds so far, it was that they were both talkative and relentless. ...or at least, his current experience leaves him with such an impression right or wrong as it may've been. kraken. kraken cairn. not explicitly true but it is, nevertheless, true enough. arinbjorn is the name for his family to call him but all else should call him 'kraken' and know that he is called such for good reason.