Stone Circle ᛋᚢᚾᛁᚾᛁᛏᛁᚾ

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ᚦ — dark foot falls lead him from barrow to stone circle. a rabid mind convinced he is led by the old, northern gods; a blessing, a spiritual call. they speak.
they say that he is not yet forsaken. they say—
he draws breath, deep into his lungs. a barrel chest between two thick shoulders expands and the northman takes a weighted footstep forward, letting eyes asmolder settle onto what dawns before him.
it is glorious. draugr grins; teeth still touched in the grime of his last kill lathered upon bridgework and tongue. it rolls from between the cage of his teeth and laps generously upon his face. his breath comes in the sound of a grizzled voice, but a song to him:
ég heyri í þér.
he cannot ignore the remnants of old wolf scent. they had been here once. he smells the thick coatings of history etched upon each stone, as he passes by. letting his nose touch to cold stone, as he ventures closer and closer to the fallen. a long stride. his tongue rolls thickly upon the center stone and he exhales.