Tuktu Hinterlands more, give me more

As soon as they had found Stjornuati, his attention had shifted to the kill he had laid out. There had been little point in introducing one wolf to another—his brother was perfectly capable of drawing his own conclusions from details and launching his own investigations. Which of course, Stjornuati wasted no time in doing such a thing either, far more interested in the pretty redhead than what Solpallur might have been getting up to.

He tore at the tender flesh of their shared prey, pulling a long strip off to gnaw at. It clung at the end, the very event a nuisance that was comical in the background when it finally snapped free. He didn’t move far from the kill after that to settle in and chew, though his orientation kept the redhead and his brother in view as he watched their interaction.

“Hún skilur ekki tunguna,” he said through a mouthful of food, chiming in a moment too late. Stjornuati didn’t need to be told that Solpallur did not speak hers that well either, but at least his brother was more of the omniglot in their group. It made him the talker by default, and Solpallur was resigned to grumbling commentary from what he could pick out and understand.