Hoshor Plains gunnr's horse

the open sky, the rolling lands, the herds of the bison and the horses, it felt like his element in a way he couldn't explain. he trails off with a simple shrug of broad shoulders. feels like coming home.

though he had no idea if he'd grown up on a flat plain land. there was nothing before the memory of the red rock and sands of ground zero, of the yipping whispers and excitedly twisted titters of the coyotes that had ( he assumed ) attacked him.

the taste of blood in his mouth: his or theirs he didn't know, at first. in the end: it had been the taste of their blood that had taken days for him to chase away.

i don't know, arktos admits. i don't know where i came from. his expression darkens as he is dragged back to that place, to the violence that had been done unto him in which he had avenged with utter brutality.