Boartusk Heights Klatre

What Maiken said seemed like reasonable words from a soul who only wished to mend. Jörmungandr was not this type. He was staunch in their beliefs. He did not think that the Brunhilde woman should have any reign over those of dark coats. They were Svartravn.

The display of the pale woman who was leader of the neighboring territory did not move the dark man. His single eye had lifted from Maiken to fix on the pale-coat. Distaste bubbled in the back of his throat. He would not speak to that thing in his native tongue. He prayed silently that Svart would not see him converse with the impurity.

Is there something you wish to say, pale-coat? We are not in your grounds. I have called from beyond your claim to speak to the healer. Your display is nothing but a waste. The words were strongly accented. Jörmungandr drew his tongue across his whiskers. His wine red stare shifted from the pale-coat and found its way to Maiken, once more.

Jörmungandr did not understand.

This is what you want? This… pale-coat with such ego, such possessiveness. Over a Svartravn!

The dark wolf scoffed.