Grouse Thicket no more innocence left to spill

Down they went, Solpallur suddenly standing over them with a snarl.

He did not get the reaction he anticipated and felt the pinpricks of anger arise in him. No fear, not even a challenge back. Just a string of words in a commoner’s tongue. A huff left him, taking notice of Stjornuati’s presence then, his eyes flicking quickly to the sight of his bróðir lingering close. A shame then, that they had not fled only to find themselves ensnared like a thieving kin.

“Þessi er þrótt-lauss,” he said to Stjornuati with a shake of his head. “Leiðinlegur.” Solpallur left the strangely marked wolf then, stepping over him to shove his bróðir roughly. Here too he did not anticipate a reaction as it was a means to exhaust his anger safely, though he circled around to glare again at the pallid creature in its supine position.

“This one is disappointed in frú,” he told them, “frú does not partake in bardagi.” His gaze went to Stjornuati, speaking roughly again. “Þú prófar þá.”