The fate of the charred half of the mount was a sad one, when put in the context that Ame had spoken it. For a moment, Týrr felt a pang of sympathy for the wolves that had inhabited it when he considered the fact that there might have been a pack that had claimed it. Or maybe no one had gotten injured in the fire. They did not know and it was very likely that they never would. Really?
Týrr inquired when Ame admitted that in her birth pack being a hermit wasn't seen as socially unacceptable. That's quite fascinating,
The young Rekkr breathed sincerely with a curious tilt of his head. Despite his curiosity, however, he did not inquire further for the simple sake of not wanting to be impolite. In Odinn's Cove there was only one wolf that could have been considered a 'hermit' and that was the Seer. He was a wretched old wolf, cursed by the Gods to never die (or so the story went, anyway), and had the blessings of being able to communicate with them directly. Týrr could never explain the feeling of unease that the wretched creature had given him, even as an adult, but his words were revered and Týrr had never been anything but respectful even when Ragnar had challenged them. Týrr did not wish to invoke the wrath of the Gods, and that fear had kept the young Rekkr docile and biting his tongue when he desired something else.
Mhm,
Týrr murmured in agreement. Even in the few months that I had been gone from these Wilds more wolves have come and the Wilds have expanded,
It had been a little disorienting at first as the layouts of the Wilds seemed to change to accommodate the influx of wolves. Nothing had changed land wise, really, only wolves adventured further and claimed re-found lands as apart of the Teekon Wilds. Survival of the fittest,
Týrr concluded in a grim tone. It is how it always is.
It was how it would always be.
a crime so old as the sky and bone