Gyrfalcon's Keep Moldovite

from close by, though choosing to shroud himself as much as possible in the foliage, rusalka watches baldr. his looming presence nearby is the protective patriarch, despite that there are not many wolves left in hljóðrfell and thus not many to distrust.

but those instincts, rusalka was finding, are impossible to turn off.

he watches for a stretch of minutes as his son worries a stick before he inches forward, an idea taking form in his mind. only in in the interest of not startling the daylights out of his son did rusalka let out a rumbling chuff.

a playful warning before he emerges from the shadows. baldr! crows rusalka. show me your best wrestling moves! as he slips into a play bow before his son; encouraging. a lesson masquerading as play.