Stone Circle ᛊᛁᛞᛁᛏᛁᚱ

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ᚦ — a shift in wind and scents. the northman swings with wide berth, ready to defend his new claim once more with tooth and claw.
unexpected, he is met by a young beauty. soft of coat color, from what he can see. dark goliath grunts in response, a pallid tongue raking across his face in quiet contemplation. he does not speak for some time, letting sandstone eyes brush her in manful observance.
then—a voice that is growling and grizzled by no circumstance. no. a blunt reply that is strangled in the heavy accents of a dane, mangling what little common he is able to speak.
walking now with long but ample strides to saddle closer to the woman, inhaling thick gusts of her scent. who er ameline? scruffy chin lifting, peering down scarred snout.
a masculine habit to not prosecute a trespasser of new lands for her fairer sex. to instead greet with hospitality—or, peace, by his terms.