Týrr stirred in his sleep, curled against a fallen cedar log, the soft moss that had grown around and up it provided an adequate bedding. It had served as the Rekkr's bed for since he had first pledged his loyalty to Tuwawi, Njal and Duskfire Glacier as a pack. It happened to be directly under a break in the canopy at the base of the mount, allowing him a perfect view of the star littered sky of night, sometimes treating him with the breath taking view of falling stars as they shot with glory across the velveteen darkness. It was a treasured spot, likely, where Týrr would dig his den when he ever got around to it. Originally, he had intended to find a cave but this had became his favored spot.
Ný Eldur.
The whisper was feather soft and seemingly right in his ear; chocolate color triangular ears twitched as if they were shooing away a fly buzzing past, and the Rekkr stretched in his slumber, muscles pulling taunt and quivering with the action before he drew his legs back to his body. Again, the two words whispered in his slumber and he jerked awake suddenly, eyes opening, pupils dilating to nearly swallow his crystalline irises whole leaving nothing but a small halo. For a second, Týrr was confused, having been fairly sure that a female had been standing there and whispering into his ear but there was no one. The only sounds he heard were the signs of life of his new pack mates and the chirps of crickets and the soft, soothed breathing of sleeping prey. Still, he did not forget the words that he had dreamed of.
New Fire.
Ný Eldur,
Týrr repeated the words to himself in his native tongue, brow furrowing as he pushed himself to his paws, shaking his coat free of the debris that clung to it. He did not immediately recognize the significance of the words until he tried saying them as one word instead of two, how his father's named was Lothbrok. Two words strung together to make what these Southerners considered a sire name. Nýeldur,
He repeated, speaking them together instead of separate. A new path, a renewed fire. All at once, with a soft breath it made sense. He would be known no longer as Týrr Ragnarsson. Now he was Týrr Nýeldur. Something new, something that was his.
a crime so old as the sky and bone