It had been quite some time since Týrr had traveled so far from the Glacier's pack lands but now that he had re-established himself as apart of it once more, he took comfort in the fact that it was likely not going anywhere soon and allowed himself to give his legs a proverbial stretch and adventure out. Much had changed since he'd last been in the Wilds, numerous packs cropping up and some disbanding. The only pack that the Rekkr could bring himself to care about was the Glacier, but he was terribly biased regarding the subject being one of it's founding members. There had always been the feeling that he was meant for a bigger purpose, and he knew that purpose had lain with the Glacier when Tuwawi had first recruited him for it. It just took an identity crises and some much time wondering as a loner, growing up to bring him to the full conclusion of what his purpose was and had always been. Ruling. He had been groomed for it as the Amazon Prince, Tezcacoatl and he had observed the leading skills of Ragnar, though these days the resentment that Týrr felt for the Vikings and his Berserkers made him wish he could forget his time as “Týrr” though, ironically, it was the name he still called himself. Yet, he could not bring himself to refer to himself as Tezcacoatl when it was the name of the boy he'd used to be, before he'd suffered the injury and amnesia. He didn't really remember that time, not anything solid, at any rate. It wasn't fair to call him something that he used to be when he didn't deserve the name. Though the name 'Týrr' brought with it vicious feelings within the Rekkr it was the name he, obviously, felt he deserved the most.
Besides, he could not claim that he as Tezcacoatl would have ever dreamed, or planned on, usurping a leader. Let alone one that was, very likely, the closest thing the Rekkr had to a friend. That desire, savage and ruthless as it was, he believed to stem from the Viking tendencies that had been taught to him, though little did he know it also very much stemmed from the Amazon within him; but as far as Týrr could see there was nothing wrong with him being unwilling to accept anyone's rule but Tuwawi's, especially when the Glacier rightfully belonged to her, and if the ember queen would not retake her throne then Týrr would take it for her ...or attempt to anyway.
Týrr drew in a deep breath as he moved, mindful of the treacherous footholds that would take him down to the Arrow Lake's shoreline. Walking the footholds, though, was as easy to the Rekkr as breathing and though he could suffer greatly with a single miss-slip he was comfortable with it. Heights had never bothered him, likely a product of Coatl's Rise and his time spent at Tartok. He reached the end of the slope and padded onto the shoreline, his prize laying before him, the frosted waters glistening every so often in the sunlight that appeared to be playing hide and go seek with the world. He padded to the water's edge, bent his head and lapped eagerly at the refreshing, albeit cold water with the obvious intent of sating his thirst. What he did after that, he had not yet planned that far.
a crime so old as the sky and bone