Stone Circle ᛊᛁᛞᛁᛏᛁᚱ

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ᚦ — her voice spits venom, and his grin only widens.
a snarl now stretches over his crooked teeth, one of blood-heating thrill. the girl bites back and northman meets it furiously, gladly. her jaws lash out, catching the thick hide of his shoulder—a sharp tug, a pinch of fang that breaks the skin.
he grunts. jerks his head back to avoid a follow-through, the chain of his spine coiling like a whip, thick forelimbs digging into the dirt. he braces—pressing forward, letting his weight bear down.  a bellow—wordless. a war-cry.
komdu aftur! ég mun finna reiði þína! an egging on, and an invitation to bleed. she will show him her great vigor and he will feel it with pulsating war heart. it is the great joy of any jarl to feel the fury of his people.