Deeper and deeper Týrr went, following the twisting and winding path of his own design, his goal to find the heart of Blackfoot Forest, letting go of what had pushed him so hard for months now, deigning to let go of it, of Fox and move on with his life. Onto what he was meant to become. Taking up his own legacy, severing the chord from Ragnar and shedding the Ragnarsson name. Týrr did not anticipate it being an easy feat, but he did feel that pledging himself to Tuwawi and Njal was a step in the right direction. Forming roots with a pack that had just began to plant their own, rather than trying to incorporate himself into what already was. It was time, for once, that he did not put Ragnar before himself. His father had clearly moved on with his replacement wives and replacement children. Týrr could not help the natural resentment he felt towards Ragnar's new families, no more than he could help the immature and teenage attitude that he had displayed when Thistle had brought her second born to meet him. There had been a reason as to why Týrr had not been back to see them, a reason that he had not been over enthusiastic to meet his half siblings.
Steps ceased when a title rang out along side the tell-tale sounds of footfalls against the hardened earth, the rustle of brush, vegetation and debris that littered the darkening forests' floor. Prince. For a second Týrr had thought only that he had imagined it, that the footfalls belonged to multiple foxes romping around instead of belonging to one being. With a shake of his head, the Rekkr continued forth, having convinced himself that it had been an illusion, only to pause once more when the sound became louder, accompanied by a name, this time. Tezcacoatl. The sound of the name was archaic, ancient sounding and exotic to the Northerner. It held connotations ...but it did not stir familiarity to him. You have mistaken me for someone else,
Týrr told her simply, turning to face the woman who had mistaken him with this...Tezcacoatl. There were plenty of earth colored males around, and though he had used to believe that the markings beneath his eyes were unique now with one of his half siblings harboring fading ones (though the sandy colored child whose life he had subtly threatened had not) his confidence that she had mistaken him upon first glance was only strengthened.
She was mistaken, that was all.
a crime so old as the sky and bone