Noctisardor Bypass glistening shards

in fierce opposition of popular belief, luhtar is not heimskur.

norseman's head tips to one side, not unlike a bear sniffing the wind, and those rounded, notched ears of his too twitch. he is aware that he and this man are not the only two loitering the bypass.

just as he can see the way his eyes move in and out of focus around luhtar. and takes notice, visible notice with the shifting of his own eyes, that the man places himself between luhtar and whatever else lurks.

the bear-wolf rumbles an amused noise, more like a knowing chuckle than much else.  yes, there is a sharpness to this one that reminds luhtar much of a blade left out in the snow.

i am luhtar, he announces. and you are?

a flick of dark eyes, toward the treeline behind the wraith's pale back. they roam along the dying foliage, past the peeled trunks of tree that had been scraped upon by both prey and predator. then, they land upon the first dark woman suspended in wary fear. there dawns realization upon luhtar, and he looks back to astier. not yet to notice the other one, the one astier is truly transfixed by.

he chortles. já! you think me some kind of cur. because i am norðmaður. tsk. a raise of an eyebrow.