Stone Circle ᛊᛁᛞᛁᛏᛁᚱ

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ᚦ — a thrown axe missing its mark. he had continued pushing, head lowered and pointed toward her chest like shield when she stepped backwards. in agahastment, spoke his tongue back—and he thinks the lamb has sprouted horns and become a billy goat.
a monotone face slowly growing to be a northman's crooked, humored smile. slouching back, head rolling soft to the side as he drops gaze over her once.
then a full-bellied laugh, short, and fun-making. ah, já? er það svo? his tongue rolls across yellowed teeth. taking step now to tower over and roll thickened, scarred shoulders and drape her in his shadow. þá sýndu, hvolpur.
viking would be delighted to see.