Half of the time the brutality of his culture kept those who ventured towards the Odinn's Cove and it's sister pack Freyja's Moors from inquiring and those that had lived near and were subject to their winter raids fearful. The own inhibitory inquisitiveness that Týrr was afforded caused him to respond in kind. Often times, he was curious but not curious enough to pry or become intrusive in his desire for knowledge. Unlike his father. Words were weapons and knowledge was undeniably priceless but there was a line that needed to be drawn. Assorted morals that defined how far you were willing to go in your quest for it and where you crossed the line. Where you looked to what was to come if you continued digging and clawing and said no more. The sound of his companion's voice broke Týrr out of his revere. A slight shake of his head was given to chase the last tendrils of wandering thoughts away &mdashl hoping that Malachi would mistake it for a gesture to rid himself of tiredness instead of a lack of attention on the Nýeldur's part. A patrol sounds like a good idea,
Týrr concurred with an amiable flick of his tail behind his haunches. Týrr hesitated only slightly before he moved forward, his designated direction chosen because it would take them to the borders quicker than most of the others. It was a path that Týrr knew well and he hoped that Malachi did not mind that he had taken the initiation despite that it was not his idea. Are you going for the Warden trade as well?
Týrr inquired of his companion in a conversational tone. It felt like one of those questions whose answer would either be stupidly obvious or surprisingly not what was expected. Týrr made the assumption that because Malachi had suggested taking a patrol together as opposed to a hunt that it signified that the other male, too, was aiming for the Warden trade.
Or, simply, it would signify what happened when Týrr made assumptions.
a crime so old as the sky and bone