Dawnlark Plains blinding light raging down from the sky

For @Scimitar ! Also this post is in correlation to my future post in his thread with Atreyu x Floki and Bear but this thread is a few days after (to give him enough time to get to Dawnlark Plains)...hopefully this is realistic, lol. I tried to make it as realistic as I could for a puppy of 2 months. xD

The details had been fuzzy when Jorunn had woken up on the sandy shores of the ankyra sound, soaking wet and vomitting up large quantities of sea water. At first he was confused, his nose full of nothing but the brine of salt water that he couldn't decipher if he was still in Stavanger Bay or not, and too busy vomiting to go looking for 'Tre and his twin. After he vomited up the water he'd swallowed, coughing until he was able to take a deep, generous and gasping air of breath the young legend weakly looked around him, realizing that the sea must have carried him away from Stavanger Bay because nothing struck him as overly familiar. Jorunn jumped at the sound of a bird taking off in flight from nearby, ears splaying to either side of his head as he squinted against the harsh light of the day, trying to decipher if he'd escaped the bear or not. The last thing he could remember was Atreyu retreating back to protect Floki as the bear had drawn nearer to Jorunn. The betrayal stung deep within the young Viking's chest though he had no word for it, and in the last ditch effort to preserve his life he remembered fearlessly diving into the reaching waves of the ocean (never mind that he hadn't been taught how to swim), though the powerful currents had sucked him out and into the sea. 

Easily he could have died numerous times and while the threat hadn't been near being over his developing survival instincts had began to kick in. Water (but not the icky stuff he'd just spent a good five minutes vomiting) and food. He needed those things; and he was no hunter still too young to hunt and provide for himself. Still, he knew what he needed to do without knowing how knew it. Though he had collapsed several times when he'd first tried to regain his footing, his legs trembling from exertion he finally was able to stabilize himself and began seeking out a non-icky water source. Despite that he was scared and tired he was determined not to show it as he screwed up his face. 

His days went like that, searching for water and scraps of carcasses left by other predators and picked nearly clean by scavengers; but that was what he was now a scavenger, and his nights were spent curled in a tightly enclosed space that he could find, though he did not sleep soundly. Jorunn was miserable and he was hungry by the time he'd reached Dawnlark Plains. He had lost weight from picking at the measly, and half rotted scraps he could find though they barely left anything for him, his body thinned out in a way that was clearly not natural for a child of his age. He missed fresh meat, he missed eating as much as he wanted, and he missed his family, missed the feeling of security that he no longer had. That he was still alive was likely a miracle in and of itself, especially because his monochromacy did not allow him to see well during the day, but Jorunn was too stubborn to die; too stubborn and would Ragnar have been there, blessed by the Gods; though the young legend felt anything but blessed. Bravely, he kept pushing on hoping that he might find his way back home again ...not that he had any idea where home was. For all he knew he washed up on an entirely different world (and to him that was what it felt like).

I'm excited for this thread! :)

The less time he spent at Nova Peak, the more distant he felt from his family. It was not a habit he desired to maintain, yet his desire to build their numbers had him skirting out past the pack borders.. even traipsing along the area that Redtail Rise would likely see as something to keep careful eye upon. He had no idea what negotiations Kaskara might have attempted to settle with the younger Alpha of the Rise, but as far as he was concerned, none of it had been validated just yet.
 
He would need to leave soon with his sister to discuss the matter.. Once the puppies were a bit older, and when Bazi was feeling more like herself after Danica’s death. That, and when he felt less miffed at his sibling for believing it safe to barricade his first litter in to their den with a log – a log that would keep them in.. but certainly not the predators of the mountain out.
 
His paws moved with a swift pace across the plains. There was something enjoyable about this specific area – as much as his heart had been set upon Neverwinter Forest, he found himself settling well upon the northern soil. The climate was a little chillier upon the mountain, and yet summer landed upon them just as any other year.. except this time, he had four little rugrats to teach.
 
He would need to get back to them soon. The day was proving to be quiet, and if he had noticed anything, it was that the northern lands drew less visitors. Yet a glint of grey caught his eyes, and lifting his muzzle upward, the cinnamon beast caught view of a young wolf.. stumbling.. injured, perhaps? He watched for a moment.. indifference painting his features before he released a gentle chuff of air.
 
Moving to close the distance between them, the Frostfur regal made no display of what his thoughts were – only that he had every intention of finding out more about the boy.

Me too! :D

There was some part of Jorunn's mind — childish though it still was — that wondered for how much longer he could keep going on like this. How hard was too hard? How far was too far? A survivor? Yes, but he was still just a child, and though incredible luck had been on his side thus far, death would eventually ascend down upon him and claim him: as it had done Ragnar. His father. Yet, these questions, advanced as they were for his age, did not linger in the face of his optimism. He was a legend — or named after one, it was the same thing to him — and legends could defeat the odds even when they were stacked against him. Turning it into some epic fantasy adventure was the only way that he was able to cope with it, to press himself further in the hopes of seeing his mother and siblings, his twin again; not able to grasp the realization that they likely thought him dead.

Jorunn was weakened by the harsh environments not suited for young children (such as himself), and found himself stumbling again. His paw pads hurt, his stomach hurt, and he was tired; but those survival instincts kept him from plopping down and drifting off in the middle of the plains, determined not to see him brought to an untimely end, apparently. A gentle chuff reached the boy's ears, deep and unfamiliar, but it was definitely wolf. Ears of platinum silver perked and his head — previous drooped to reflect his exhaustion — lifted allowing his gaze to sweep over the larger male in the shortening distance. The other male's form was a blur of grays when he moved, and Jorunn startled, taking a step backwards, ears slicking back to his skull.

He might have recognized the other as a wolf by scent, but the encounter with the bear — the starter of all of this mess in Jorunn's mind — was still fresh in the child's mind. “Yew can't eatises me!” He screamed at the older male (apparently volume control still wasn't a thing for him yet), or rather screamed the best he could, though his childish voice was hoarse from his trials.

His approach was not taken well -- as he closed the distance between himself and the silver child, the boy erupted in a shriek with impressive volume -- certainly something that not only caused the large beast to pause his steps, but also to flatten his ears to his skull and outwardly cringe.

Blinking at the child, a light frown made its way to his features, a snort issuing from the wolf. "I wasn't planning on it," he shot back, tempting to tag on that if the boy yelled at him again, he might change his mind on that matter. But he didn't -- the silver youth was clearly shook up, and his empathy was given with the thought of his own children becoming lost.

"Who are your parents?" His tone softened then, his stance remaining neutral as his tail gave a quick flick. He couldn't very well leave the child here to wander alone -- and either the boy would go back home where he belonged. or if he had no home, Scimitar would have to bring him back to the Peak and hope Bazi did not view the child as a threat to her own brood.

The older male assured Jorunn that he hadn't been planning on eating him; but Jorunn was understandably skeptical. With the memory of the bear coming towards him, time after time even after Atreyu had intercepted was not something that he would easily be forgetting any time soon, if he ever truly forgot it. A Viking the young legend might have been but he was still a child; and he was frightened. He might not admit it, might have convinced himself to conceal and don't feel but he was terrified. Not only had he nearly been a snack to a bear but he had woken up on some strange shore and now was ...on some other planet or something. This was not the world that Jorunn Eitri had known, absent of the presence of all he had loved, of fresh food and security that he'd taken blatantly advantage of. The adventures it offered him were vastly unknown and he wasn't sure what to make of it, yet. Other than he wasn't a huge fan of picking at rotten left overs. If he never had to eat rotting meat in his life again he'd be content.

The male asked him who his parents were. “Uhm,” He stalled for a moment, panic gripping him when he realized that he'd never actually paid attention to Thistle's name. He simply knew her as: mama. “Mama,” He offered, unhelpfully and paused again, muzzle scrunching as he thought of the name of the man that had sired him. He'd heard it plenty of times even if he felt nothing associated with it. "Ragwar!” He was proud of himself, for a moment, when he remembered Ragnar's name (even though his pronunciation was questionable). “He's is dedded.” Jorunn informed Scimitar, his pride falling and his shoulders slumped.

For now, it seemed the sea had made an unwilling orphan out of Jorunn Lodbrok.

The answer was given with only small hesitation – and as the word spilled form the boys lips, Scimitar allowed a gentle frown to cloud his features. Touche, kid, he thought with disdain. In that moment, he promised himself that when he got home, he would teach his kids the names of their parents – and ensure they also knew the names of their pack mates. The boy before him only held about a month in age upon his own brood, and he released a gentle sigh at the uncertainty of the situation.
 
The father was dead and his mother was simply ‘mama.’ “Do you know where you live?” He side shifted, his muzzle lowering closer to the boy in case the youth wanted to inspect him further – though he made no quick movements in case the sandy child still did not trust him.

The older male let out a heavy sigh that moments later Jorunn mimicked. There was a certain relief to the action, though the wave was quickly chased away by the slight pang of pain in his stomach. Partially rotten scraps didn't settle well with the legend's tender stomach. Not when he was used to eating fresh meat and never wanting. Life had been in Stavanger Bay had been exceptionally good, and he hadn't realized what he had until he lost it. He was alive, though, at the hands of those mysterious beings his mother had called 'Gods' and his own sheer determination of will. If it had gotten him this far, surely his purpose was not over. There was too much life for him to live and live it he would even if he had to suffer pathetic and rotting scraps of meat until he could effectively learn to hunt for himself. Jorunn focused his eyes once more — having left Scimitar to peer at the plains around them with unabashed contempt — back upon Scimitar's monochrome features, easier for Jorunn to pick out subtle details being closer to him. 

The question caused Jorunn to tilt his head ever so slightly as he thought about it. “Ummm,” He couldn't have pronounced it even if he would have remembered it correctly, which he didn't. “The sea tooked mes.” As to where it dumped him: he had no idea. He didn't realize that he was in the same Valley as Stavanger Bay, though he realized a moment later that he hadn't actually answered Scimitar's question. “I dunno knows.” He'd heard it said before, surely, in passing but had he paid attention to it? Nope. His concerns were always more self centered, which was extremely unfortunate for Jorunn, he was beginning to realize.

The sea.
 
There was a pack by the sea, he had heard once – a pack of siren’s, or something of the like. Perhaps he belonged to them? The boy was rather unhelpful with his situation, which only lended credibility to how helpless he was in his situation. He withheld another sigh – not lost upon him that the silver and tawny youth had released one of his own. Adding stress to the boy would do no good, and so, he attempted to ‘perk’ up.
 
“Well.. Until we find your family, y’want to come stay at my mountain? My kids are close to your age,” he offered, sweeping his tail through the air. His own cubs were a bit younger. But it made little difference. And if the boy decided he didn’t want to? Scimitar wasn’t sure – but the worst case scenario was that he ended up dragging the boy to Nova Peak by his scruff, and then sending out Kaskara or Kieran to seek his family.

He continued to try to coax the boy in more small talk during their journey. In a sense, he was perhaps trying to keep his own thoughts from the reaction his mate might give to bringing home a 'stray.' The trip was long, and no doubt exhausting.. but soon, they would be at the Peak and Jorunn could rest.