Týrr's head tilted ever so slightly to his right, ears cupping forth to hear her when she began to speak once more. She spoke that she did not blame him — according to her the other half of the mountain was scarred. Despite the promise that it was far from beautiful, the Rekkr was intrigued; struck with the sudden urge to cross over to the ruined half, to explore it and feel the scars under his paws, wanting to see and hear whatever story the land had to give to his imagination. Inquisitive crystalline blue eyes studied Ame subtly as he contemplated it. Imagine the story it has to tell though,
Perhaps because he came from a land where scars were not hideous, in fact they were intentionally created with random scratches that were claimed to resemble something in honor of whichever god the wolf dedicated themselves too. Each scar had a story and Týrr did not feel that the earth was any different.
I was sure that they might think me an anti sociable hermit, actually,
Týrr joked with a slow smile tugging effortlessly at the edges of chocolate colored lips as he shifted his body once more so the sunlight focused on the other half of his body, giving the right half a break from the onslaught of relentless sunlight. No. I am further than I would like to be,
Týrr spoke honestly. He had ventured a bit too far, but he figured as long as he retraced his steps it should not have been much of a problem finding Duskfire Glacier in time to hear Tuwawi's howl when she called for him. We are a good few days from The Sunspire and from Swiftcurrent Creek. More than adequate distance from any pre-established pack.
Týrr assured her. He understood the concern, but knew that Tuwawi and Njal would not have ever claimed territory close to another pack.
a crime so old as the sky and bone