Sequoia Coast Mother Called Me Home

Tveir slid into the bright light of the coast. No familiar wolf smells. He lay sandy paws against the darker sand. The water flowing in and out. He tilted a dark brown ear, and grey eyes smoldered across the wide expanse. It had been far too long since he had been absent, his mother long dead, his half siblings on their own adventures. He had no idea what had become of Mercury or Gyda. He licked along his jaw and he closed his eyes. 

The water slammed against the shore, the sea birds wheeled and cried out and something shifted in chest, he was home. Yes he had traveled and fought and learned, and here he was whole finally. If he thought hard enough he could hear his mother's voice his father's voice calling calling, he himself was not a young man anymore. He had not done anything that many young males had. No children to call his own, no mate. Though truth be told part of him had been afraid of what that would have meant. Would he have left her as his true blood father left Thistle.

Thistle. A small smile worked his way along his mouth as he thought of his mother. She had never taken another mate, none once. Her heart had beat for Ragnar Lothbruk, and her children. Tveir snorted and continued on his way, pawprints leaving soft imprints in the sand.