Kintla Flatlands My undead mummy and me

Here comes help! ...not

Valtýr had been transported Southwest, as requested, by a man named Lucius. Though the icy roman was binary in personality, there was enough warmth in his heart to spare some generosity to the forlorn child. Small game and shelter was enough to sustain the little Sveijarn long enough to endure their travels, though he found any degree of traveling exhausting. Lucius had been kind enough to keep the pace slow, and in return Valtýr did the best he could to keep food down; but it was a vicious cycle. His body craved nourishment, but hot blood on the tongue violently churned his insides - possibly from stress. When the scent of packlands gre strong, they had parted ways... leaving the sooty pup to make his own way forward. After all, Oborous didn't have the best reputation in Teekon.

Nothing more than a walking skeleton, Valtýr's steps became heavy as he followed a river from glen to glen. Quickly his resolve began to fade, the rocky banks quickly draining his energy. However, before he could find a place to rest a glimmer of raven colored hair caught his eye. The firstborn approached to find a young wolf crumpled alone the shore -- presumably dead -- accompanied by an odious smell in the air. Valtýr's nose twitched suspiciously but he approached nonetheless, a numbness permeating his mind. Curiosity and fear was no longer ruled by instinct. He simply craved the touch of another.

The small female did not stir as the youth approach, and so Valtýr coiled his emaciated body against the crook of her belly, wedging his hollowed skull between her slash forelegs. Her body was still tepid, though the boy did not think so far ahead as to detect any heartbeart. Instead, he shared her warmth and fell into a half-dream besides her, lulled by the river's ebbing water.