Stone Circle Sleep, pretty darlin’

”Bjarna?” 

Skáld had spent some time resting since his return, but had not once been visited by his sister. She was busy, perhaps- the pack was small, and her role had likely grown since he’d seen her last. He imagined his dutiful sister tending to the pack with the very same care that she’d tended to him.

And he had gone, but returned- only to find her scent faded day by day. Along the borders, it fell away in the Spring rain. At her usual haunts, new grasses grew, covering up her well-worn paths. Little was left behind. 

But perhaps she was hiding; perhaps she did not want to see him yet, and perhaps she was angry with him for having disappeared. 

He did not scent his mother in Kvarsheim, either; the only familiar scent belonged to Gunnar, who was the pack’s anchor. 

”Bjarna? Please, don’t hide from me?” He called out as he roved. ”Bjarna? Please? I am sorry I was gone, please- I want to see you?”

The breeze rose and fell- and only silence followed.