Stone Circle on a dare,

The scents of strangers found Bjorn’s nose. His hackles rose, his ears perked forward, his interested piqued. He trotted briskly to the border from which the sound came, and before him were two wolves, indeed strangers. They had meat with them, deer meat. He stood roughly two yards away, his stance firm. “Who is it that wishes the presence of Kvarsheim?” His voice is as strong as his body, yet he keeps it at a level sound. He waits for an answer.