Light the Night

Ye Olde Claiming Howl! [size=xx-small](I had some free time, Java, so I thought I would get one started ;-) )[/size] Next round starts Sat 8/30 @Malachi and @Týrr can assume they got picked up mid way on the journey North. @Njal @Hatshepsut @Skull @Danica @Jökull @Valtýr @Maera @Lárus

As the sun set into the west and the stars became blanketed by the night, a small caravan of wolves stepped, for the first time, onto the alpine loam of Duskfire Glacier. After many days of travelling the Teekon wilds, Njal and Tuwawi led their children and escorts to their new home: an untouched world of dense aspens and ice-melts, fed by the sleeping glacier tucked between twin peaks. Only a few of their party had the brief pleasure of exploring this rugged terrain beforehand. Týrr who had, as promised, met them halfway and Tuwawi who had happened upon the purchase during her reconnaissance. The others followed, guided only by trust, into the North. Though Tuwawi was confident in the new space she had chosen, a level of uncertainty still ebbed at her wan spirit. However, her mind was eased by Njal's presence and she pressed into him as they walked besides one another in tandem. "We are almost there," she cooed to her children, silver eyes darting to Danica and Malachai. The adults certainly fared better than the little ones.

It was a lot to ask of the Sveijarn children who, up until a few days ago, had only ventured outside the den on small excursions. Never before had they had to travel so arduously. Even though the group stopped often to rest, it was clear their energy faded with each step. Yet, the small pack had to push on and struggle forth. Now, only a few leagues separated them from the small den Tuwawi had excavated with Týrr. It was a shamble compared to her painstakingly meticulous den in Swiftcurrent, but it would have to do for the time being.

Eventually, the treeline broke into a clearing dotted with late-season violet lupines. In the distance a giant alabaster glacier lumbered, fixed between its mountain wardens. The fading light danced upon the ice and sparkled atop the small spring fed by the glacial melt. "We've made it," she sighed, decompressing, as the ember regarded her new, and old, companions. The evening air, spiced with a summer's wind, was tepid and inviting compared to the dark woodlands who's hem played in the vibrant rays. Though dusk was a beautiful time, it also heralded the arrival of the dark and dangerous night.

Tuwawi performed a head count before gingerly raking her teeth through Njal's tussled mane. "Call the others and claim this land with me, my Palestrike? Together?" she asked him with a whispered voice. This pack had long been a dream of theirs, and tonight it would become a reality. Her gaze traveled from Danica - the golden warrior - to Týrr - a valiant northerner - before lingering upon Malachi - the peaceful youth. The Sveijarn children came next: Jökull the tiny alpha, Maera the savvy, Lárus the grounded, and Valtýr the big hearted. Tuwawi gave each a small nod... they knew what they had to do... what they had to howl. Upon Njal's mark, the ember's crown tipped back to loose a howl into the heaven's stars. Skull... Hatshepsut... come to us. The time is now. Wolves of Duskfire Glacier sing tonight and we claim this land as ours. The ember's melodic passage offered a proclamation to the world and ignited an infinity fire within the souls of her new family. Tonight was the first of many days to come.

Since their meeting, Skull had remained near the twin spires and had taken it upon himself to memorize a rough idea of the territory in his mind. It kept him occupied; the wait was not so much frustrating to the patient wolf, as was the marked lack of companionship in the days leading up to the Sveijarn's arrival. He was not a conversationalist, but he thrived on the social aspects of pack life and yearned to see his old friend and her family make their mark on the land.

So it was with a great sigh of relief that Skull answered the call as it echoed out across the forested foothills. He lifted his own voice to the darkened skies, answering Tuwawi and Njal as the rest of their chosen joined the chorus. As his paws bade him forward towards the source; they were not far, and he desired to commit the faces who would inhabit this land to memory.

He emerged from the woodland into the glacier's cut, and spotted the gathering of shadows beneath the dying light framed by all manner of colorful lupines. A rare smile fixed itself onto his muzzle. He approached the group with his ears cast back and tail lowered out of respect to the leader pair, only to join his voice with their own once again as he neared. He eyed the children; the adults (tiny mimicries of their parents; the adults Golden, Greyscale, and one who possessed eyes of the north).

But he did not bother with introductions. It would come after the rally; in the days and nights to follow.

For now, he was home.

The trek was torturous. They were all excited to be out and about, but the adults – many of them nameless – insisted they carry on. As much as Jökull craved expanding her horizons, she would rather do it at her leisure. More often than not, she made her discontent known by being a bratty terror; nipping, growling, generally being bossy towards the caravan of unacquainted wolves. Her parents and siblings were exempt from her weary wrath. Everyone else was fair game. Of course, Jökull was only ever moody at the ass crack of dawn, when some prodding nose roused her from unsatisfactory slumber. Not the best way to wake up.

Aside from the throbbing ache in her paws (and the near-constant harassment of urgency), this outing was...mind blowing. She thought the Creek was all that there was in this world. Almost like a lush island floating in space. How sorely mistaken she was to think the world so infinitesimal; so limited in assets and expanse when in reality it was far greater than her imagination. There were rolling hills adorned in verdant hillocks, craggy mountains capped with ice and clouds, towering brushwood, gloomy woodlands...There was so much to take in, so she could not stay angry throughout each day.

But today was grueling. Jökull ached all over, she was hungry (again), and she was dead tired. Before she could open her mouth to plead for rest and sustenance, the wolf ahead of her came to an abrupt stop. By this point, Jökull was aught else but a zombie, so she walked right into someone's hind leg. That someone being Týrr. She was so tired, she stayed like that for a moment until she heard the voice of mommy. Ears twitching, she removed her heavy head from Týrr's hock and wound her way in between his legs. Tiredly, Jökull dragged her paws all the way to Tuwawi and Njal's location. Quicksilver eyes observed their exchange as Tuwawi turned to face them all. Tilting her head, she watched as her mother silently appraised her followers before moving on to her brood.

The look in her mother's platinum eyes...She knew what had to be done; what their added chorus would mean for the Sveijarn and their followers. Jökull nodded back, waiting for Tuwawi's and Njal's signal. Once her parents tilted their heads back in euphonious song, Jökull filled her lungs with air and released a howl of her own. It was nowhere near as majestic and beautiful as the adults, but it rang loud and true. My home, my heart – it lies in the diamond palace.

The last few days' strain and the current trek were taking their toll on the golden wolf as she followed behind Tuwawi and Njal... her new Alpha pair. That was going to take some getting used to. She admired the pups' fortitude, for she hadn't expected them to make such a hard pace. At their age, she did not know that she would have been able to travel such a ways and still remain standing at the end. She had half expected to end up carrying them at least part of the journey. Her injury had held up well, however, and physically she was not in too bad of shape despite her recent stretch of recovering inactivity. It was mental weariness that dragged her down now.

She looked about as they slowed, assuming that this was it. The place was beautiful, especially painted with the light of a fading sun. Tuwawi confirmed her suspicions only a few moments later. The glacier in the distance was a beacon in the rays, the icy expanse not something Danica had encountered before. The sight was strange but stunning.

This was to be home now. Her feelings were mixed... she was not happy with how events had played out but did share a sort of joy, for she could imagine how much this meant to her new leaders. A home wasn't in the setting, after all, but in those who you shared it with. And while most here were strangers whom she had never met, it had been much the same with Swiftcurrent. In time she would come to love it, she was sure, but for now, the sorrow of parting had not quite faded.

This did not diminish her call, though, as she joined her voice with those of her new packmates in the claim to the land. As she did, a flicker of pride ran through her. If she was to live here, then she would make sure that this pack thrived, putting as much as she was able into it.

making assumptions

The little middle child found it particularly hard to adapt to the whole new movement their new life brought along. She was used to sleep in everyday, and besides that she was also accustomed to having several beauty naps throughout the day.

She had suspected something strange was going on but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that their parents were plotting to take them out to walk forever. She had been excited during the first few minutes, a half hour at most but as she realized that there was no running too far allowed and that her parents --along with the numerous strangers that went with them-- showed no signs of being close to the target she became discouraged.

Somewhere along the way, Maera had thrown her biggest tantrum yet. It was nothing to be proud of but the girl had burned a good twenty minutes of the group's precious time. She had plopped on the ground suddenly as if she had been stuck with an arrow to the knee, moaning and crying she did not and would not take a step further. Mommy and Daddy weren't too pleased with her daughter's riot but they ended up convincing her to go on. Though she did earn a free ride from one of the nameless dudes when her whining got too annoying.

And then after a billion years later, the adults came to a halt. Maera, who had been playing mime--mirrowing every step Jokull took and carefully placing her paws in the same space her sister's own toes had been -- stopped abruptly at her sis collided with a man's leg. She blinked around without really paying attention to what had caused them to stop.

Then as the voices of the wolves present reached towards the sky, the fire-born child looked poked Jokull with her nose and squealed at her excitedly, urging her to remember the time they had engaged a similar screaming battle with the white furred lady. Where was she by the way?

No matter! Maera wiggled her bum around and joined to the communal song, her voice merging with the ones of her future packmates. "AWOOOOOO"

The majority of the travel was an arduous task - even for an adult, but more so because there were four fresh faced children in tow - and they stopped at regular intervals for rest. For the majority of the trek Njal carried their youngest (and heaviest, he had thought on many occasions) child. Larus still hung limply from the careful hold that Njal had upon his scruff. Even though the alpha was a strong and solid individual, the hours of hiking with a pudgy babe hanging from his jaws was enough to tire his neck and shoulders. A few times Njal had tried to get Larus to walk on his own, but the boy would yowl and cry instead of taking after his siblings - sometimes even outright refusing to move. So Njal would scoop him up again, and they would march on.

When the mountains came in to view, they took his breath away. Or they would have, if Larus' fur wasn't clogging the man's mouth. Instead he sighed through his teeth, and the hot air caused the yellow-faced boy to squirm. He looked upon their new home and was invigorated. So they pushed on, until the entire group came to a halt and Tuwawi had his attention with a simple request - and his hard earned name passing from her lips.

"Call the others and claim this land with me, my Palestrike? Together?" He smiled to her, and once again the expression was hidden by the burdensome son; so he carefully deposited Larus in the grass at his paws - listening to him roll and slump towards his sisters - and then gave a gleeful nod. "Yes, my Proudheart. Together." He had told her about the foreigner Hatshepsut, just as she had shared the names of others who offered their alleigance - Skull, Malachi, who knows how many others - and so when she called for them, he simply sat and waited.

Then, it was time. When Tuwawi's head cast back and her howl rose in to the heavens, Njal mirrored her. The mountain and his flame summoned forth their allies, forging a bond with these odd souls. His own deep and hearty voice mingled with the crisp and commanding tone of the alpha female - and together their voices were matched by distant songs, nearby cheers, and the chattering of their excited children.

"Duskfire Glacier is ours," He sang-shouted, "The Sveijarn lay claim together."

Tuwawi kept her promise, and Malachi kept his. Despite the trilling excitement that ran the young man through and through when he spotted the family on the distant horizon, he greeted the group with only a few sweeping wags of his tail and a pang of longing in his heart. When he looked at the tired faces of Tuwawi and Njal and at their quartet of squirming children, he couldn't help but see his own family reflected in their weary eyes.

That had been half the reason he'd stuck to the rear of the group throughout the duration of their travels. He'd busied himself by watching for stragglers, and though the adults outnumbered the pups, he did not let his attention wane for even a second. His concentration kept him silent for much of the trip and he helped where he could, knowing he'd joined the group for the harsh and final stretch. Though interacting with the children made him wary, he'd gathered the courage to scoop tiny Maera off her paws in attempt to still her discomforting whines. He had watched Njal pick up Larus earlier that day, and had tried to copy his movements but fell short and graceless. Though he hadn't hurt the girl in the process, the same couldn't be said for himself. He could still feel the burn in his neck from his inexperienced maneuvers.

He'd been watching Jökull drag herself across the ground when Tuwawi's voice cut through the still night air. He flicked a gaze of tired amusement toward Týrr as both sisters tumbled into the earthy wolf's legs, then fixed his attention on Tuwawi and Njal, though he did not linger long. He sucked in a breath as his eyes met the sight behind them. The licking flames of the setting sun danced against the glacier's face and set the whole mountainside on fire. At the sight of the living ice Malachi found the pain in his neck and the weariness in his legs forgotten. It had been so long since he had seen something so beautiful.

It was then Tuwawi began the claiming chorus. She rose her voice alongside Njal's, both sharp and clear in the coolness of the night, singing with a power that first brought silence to Malachi's throat. One by one each wolf lifted their head to the heavens, weary as they were, and let the voice which made each wolf their own mingle in the chilling air to become one, united and whole. The fire in their calls danced a warmth into his soul he hadn't felt since leaving his pack three moons ago.

He could still remember his last group howl, haunting on the air as he'd torn himself from the only land and life he had ever known. How different his howl sounded now as he waxed and waned his voice until he fell in harmony with every wolf around him. Sorrow still weighed his heart, but something new had entered since: a hope as brilliant as the glacier lit by the setting sun and the power in the voices of every wolf who gathered round. These wolves were pack, these wolves were family, and here their hearts would dance.

Sorry for the lengthy post. I got a bit carried away!

Where were they going? Why did they have to leave the burrow? And why was everyone so quiet? These were thoughts that plagued the chubby child as he was ushered out of the den, but the questions dwindled with each step, until all that was left was irritation over the constant toil of the road. He whined and cried until Mommy or Daddy stopped, and then whined and cried some more as he tried to tumble his way along. No matter what, Larus refused to enjoy this trip outside of the den; he was showing a natural pigheadedness that forced his dear daddy to pick him up a few hours in to their hike, and then carry him the rest of the way. The brief stops had him cawing and crowing, eager to stop and settle for the rest of the night (or beyond)... But Larus didn't exactly get his way.

He was lifted up and held by Njal, and there he sagged, swinging like a lazy pendulum. The boy had a grumpy face, crinkled by a frown, and refused to budge an inch when set down. No matter how often his siblings raced ahead (or sometimes refused, like he did) Larus put up the most fight. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to leave the safety of the den, or go traipsing off in to the big bad world. But here he was, here they all were - surrounded by strangers, and with the sun beginning to set. This was when Njal stopped. Larus could see his mother's emberous figure cutting a fine silhouette against the dying sun, and was quite contented in that moment, for she ignited like a great pyre before his eyes. His father's breath danced across his back and Larus, irritated by the discomfort, squirmed.

When Njal placed him down, the boy sagged and readied his lungs for more crying - but daddy moved, and the jostling send the boy rolling on his side in to the grass. Larus braced himself and got to his paws, looking around with a quizzical expression - wondering why they stopped. But they had stopped, and the thought ended there. He got what he wanted! It took forever, but there was no more walking! The yellow-faced boy murmured pleasantly and slumped backwards, leaning his girth against whatever was closest (a sibling maybe, or another wolf) and then they all starting yowling together.

Mommy and daddy first, then some far-away voices, and lastly Maera, Jokull, and even Valtyr! Larus stared at them, transfixed upon his brother, and then lifted his own nose in a weak mimicry of his idol. His eyes remained upon Valtyr's face, and then in a blink they were closed, with Larus adding his own pitchy note to the choir: "Weeeoooo!" But why were they making noise?

Týrr had met the Sveijarn family half way from Swiftcurrent Creek and Duskfire Glacier just as Tuwawi and him had discussed. The journey was not so half as bad for him, nor so long, and he felt bad for the pair's children, one of which, Maera he thought her name might have been, the one whom resembled Tuwawi the most in coloration had thrown a temper tantrum in which she refused to move. He had been about to step forth to carry her when an unknown male beat him to it, and the Rekkr recoiled and the caravan had began to move once more. Excitement settled anxiously within him, at the prospect that it was actually happening, and awe that he was apart of it, in accordance to the gratitude he felt towards the pair, though it was granted to Tuwawi only a sliver more for it had been the ember kissed woman who had extended the offer in the first place; and he would spend as much time as it was necessary paying them back, proving that inviting him to be apart of the next, biggest chapter of their family's saga had not been a mistake. The Rekkr could offer them many things, he felt confident.

After many hours of traveling, they had finally entered Duskfire Glacier, a soft sigh of content slipping from between Týrr's lips. Already, it felt like home to him, though he did have the advantage of having stayed within the territory while Njal and Tuwawi had finished tying their loose ends up in Swiftcurrent Creek. The party had only just stopped, the young Rekkr's movements ceasing with a gratefulness. He did not share in the tiredness that seemed to exude from the others, having (sheepishly) only made half of the journey himself. He had focused on the Alpha pair only to give a start when he felt something small, warm and decidedly puppy-like collide with his back leg. Ears slicked back to half mast as he peered over his shoulder, catching a glimpse at the child whose head was pressed against his leg, leaning on him as if she needed the support. In the next second after he realized that she was no danger his ears cupped forth and his gaze softened, pupils shrinking back to their normal size within their pools of crystalline as the adrenaline faded from his blood stream. He felt silly for being so startled by the girl with the iced coloration, Jökull, Týrr thought of her name. She had been a trooper, determined to walk the entire way. He smiled at her though whether the girl noticed it or not he did not know. When Maera mimicked her sister it did not come as quite such a startle to Týrr who allowed the girl to lean upon him. It lasted only until Tuwawi had called her children to her. Týrr held still for them as first Jökull weaved her way between his legs, her movements dragging and sluggish, followed by Maera.

He saw that they made it to their parents and brothers before Tuwawi and Njal's howl rang out. He joined in soon, after, tilting his muzzle towards Asgard, intending for his Gods to hear it and aknowledge his pledge and promise of loyalty to Duskfire Glacier and the Sveijarn family.

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It had come to this, the founding of the Northern pack upon a glacier named for flames at the deadening of daybreak. Hatshepsut was rather taken with the name; she thanked the Gods for having led her back to the colder lands, rather than in the direction of the sea and its coastal inhabitants. Lestat would follow — this the Regent knew innately — and it was to her his loyalty would be bound.

But she had faith in Njal, a force of will that had not yet been compounded by her witness of his actions. He had done enough, she felt, to leave the Creek, to uproot his family to be reared as surely as he and his wife had been, to be steeped in their lore and their ways.

She lifted her muzzle then, paws gripping the new land, and let the cadence of her accented voice complement that of the Northerners, their children, their followers. A stranger in a strange land was she, but the Regent would not depart, nor die, without placing the stamp of Egypt in this place.

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Puttering this along! The next deadline will be Sept. 12. Tuwawi is absent so I'm going to skip her for now. @Hatshepsut @Skull @Danica @Jökull @Valtýr @Maera @Lárus @Malachi @Týrr

They had made it. Gathered together before their future home, with the voices of allies ringing free across the land. Njal was suprised by how moving it was; to have Tuwawi at his side, his children behind him, and all of this before him - before them - was almost overwhelming. When the song had died, Njal turned to look upon those that would become his new family. His gaze lingered upon his gleeful, sleepy children first; he turned to Sveinn next, as the boy was familiar from his brief time among the creek wolves; then to Danica, who was looking ahead with the others towards the burning sky. All of Njal's doubts and misgivings about leaving the creek evaporated in those fleeting moments.

He took a breath of the new air, feeling the embers of the sunset imbibe him with strength, and began to address the crowd. This was not his forte - really, he should leave the talking to Tuwawi and keep himself occupied with the more physical aspect of leadership - but he couldn't resist.

We've made it. I am proud to have you among my family, the man's voice rumbled, and he looked to each wolf in the party, catching their eye not in a challenging manner but a humble one - the gold in his eyes ignited by the vibrant sky. Our pack will flourish with your aid. Our children, and those that come after them, will be a testament to your diligence and ability. Duskfire welcomes all of you - and we thank you- Njal glanced towards Tuwawi, whose body burned with skyfire; when he looked back upon the group he was smiling for a change. -from the depths of our hearts.

That was enough sentimentality. But he meant it, every word. There were other things to talk about but for now, with everyone so exhausted, matters of heirarchy and status could wait until they had all rested from the journey. Njal stepped towards his wife and pressed his nose against her cheek, a brief moment of affection that he didn't feel the need to hide; the love within his gaze was obvious. When next he spoke, it was with a tired lilt: It is time to rest now. he muttered, and turned to begin herding the children towards the glacier all over again.

Skull stood peacefully among the wolves that Tuwawi and Njal had gathered. He felt no shame in running beneath their banner, because it was by Siku's will that he decided to stay in the first place. She would understand, he knew. They were Tartok, and would always be. But something in him itched and burned; he knew, deep down, he was staying so that time would snuff the ember he coveted deep in his heart for the swarthy Issumatar. With luck, he would find a new love, or not at all, and devote himself more thoroughly to his work. Never in a million moons would he admit it, but Siku was distracting, and Aves held the place he knew he should have commanded.

Still, Skull could only nod when Njal addressed the group. It was not the time nor place to worry about such things. He caught the pale Alpha's eye and closed his own as he nodded respectfully to the scarred male. Tuwawi and her mate had earned their place, and it was time for him to earn his own as an adviser and protector.

When the family turned, Skull hung back and waited for the rest to disperse or follow, before following behind like the shadow he was.

Hatshepsut stood tall as Njal spoke, and the look of love he exchanged with Tuwawi did not escape her cool scrutiny. Here was a good man; perhaps she would persuade Lestat to join his band. Eyes fell to the children who tumbled in front of their parents; for a brief, stabbing moment, she missed Neferure terribly, but immediately put the thought from her mind.

At the Sveijarn's dismissal, the Regent gave the royal family a quick, low bow, and glided in the direction of the glacier and its surety of caves and crevasses, hoping to secret herself away for a long rest while her mind roamed its palace and she decided what it was she would accomplish as a Duskfire wolf.

Danica couldn't help but grin as the normally taciturn Njal made his speech. Short and to the point but rather touching and heartfelt... it was quite cute really. Then he departed with his pups, leaving the rest of them to - find dens?

Not really Danica's style, since she was more of a sleep-under-the-stars type girl, so she instead simply wandered a ways off, then flopped down within the forest at the base of the glacier. With a tree at her back, she gazed up at the stars, enjoying the feel of the cool earth beneath her. There was promise to this new home.

Njal gave his speech which was short and straight to the point. It was one of the things that Týrr liked about the pallid Northerner — he didn't seem to be the type to beat around the bush. Neither did Tuwawi, Týrr had found out from his interactions from the fire kissed woman. He was not the type to implore the patience it took when it came to those who could not tell him their intentions outright. He did not like being deceived any more than he enjoyed being overtly and unnecessarily dominated. Crystalline blue eyes watched the Sveijarn family depart, and subtly stepped away from the dispersing group to go find his claimed little area where he had been sleeping for the past week or two. It was not a den but it was a favored spot and he made quick work of seeking it out to rest for the night after his partial journey with them.

Malachi could still feel the remnants of the howl in his throat as Njal addressed them. As the youth pried his eyes from the Glacier still burning at his alpha's back he caught Njal's gaze, and Malachi diverted his own with a bow of his head. He felt no shame in submitting to Njal, but rather found peace in the motion: to have one to submit to meant he had a place to call home. Malachi felt a stab in his chest as Njal pressed his nose into Tuwawi's fur, imagining again his own parents in their place.

And then it was over: Njal and Tuwawi padded off with their pups, and the remaining adults either split or followed. Malachi swept his gaze around the clearing and tried to commit each wolf's scent to memory. Then, he loped after the alpha pair momentarily before splitting from their small caravan to find shelter under the mountain's trees. Hope and sorrow muddled his thoughts, but sleep numbed them both as he curled up on the forest floor to rest. Tomorrow would be a new day and a new start for every wolf, and he would embrace it with everything he had.

The gravity of their claim enlivened her. This glacier would be theirs, and theirs alone. Each song that was added to the chorus was an expression of unity, of bestowal, of new beginnings. Everyone had their song to sing, but Jökull's howl – however insignificant it may sound – rung much like her parent's: proud, strong, binding. She appreciated their tone far more than anyone else.

Once their howls died down, Njal spoke up. Hearing her father give such an inspiring speech left her dazed. In her three months of life, Jökull has never heard him speak quite like that. Being saddled with not only leadership but children as well, perhaps there was a change occurring in him. A metamorphosis Jökull wanted to experience. Perhaps one day.

Turning to Maera, Lárus and Valtýr, she approached them each and gave them a long, sloppy smooch right in the middle of their foreheads. Should they resist, Jökull will kick their ass because she's kind of emotional right now. Their trek was over, and this was their new home. Just accept my feelings, please. I don't know what to do with myself.

Njal spoke up with an exhausted lilt, speaking promises of rest and rejuvenation. Jökull was all too glad to hear so she yipped and jumped to lick his chin. She did the same to Tuwawi, needing to brace herself on her mother's legs in order to bestow a kiss. Pulling away with a wagging tail, Jökull raced after Njal. Yeah. Rest sounds splendid.

- EXIT -

Thanks for revining this thread so I could post with Val :'-)

FOR.
EV.
ERRRRRRR.

That's what this walk felt like. At first it had been fine and peachy... nothing out of the norm. Larus was a bit of a downer not long into their excursion but what else was new? Little Val marched alongside his parents and friends, happy to look up to Danica and see her golden face. But why where they walking to far and where were they going? Valtýr didn't know, or really care. He was easygoing, and was content to enjoy the sunshine and pleasant late-summer breeze. Every now and then he bothered his siblings with a pounce and even though they were not thrilled with his antics, they were able to tolerate it.

However, minutes became hours, and soon the afternoon sun dipped beyond the horizon to signal the closure of their first day. Valtýr began to have suspicions that this walk wasn't just another jaunt in the name of exploration. He looked to her parents... their faces were carved like stone. Serious and alert, even though his brother moaned melodramatically between his patient father's jaws. Valtýr's little mouth twisted in a frown. 'Moma, when we go home?' he would ask Tuwawi, to which she would reply, 'we are going home'. It didn't make much sense to the boy, but her soft voice silenced him long enough until he could find another distraction: a leaf, Maera's tail, or Jokull's ear...

Yet, like any other child Valtýr had his weak moments. Overtired, hungry, and cranky, little temper-tantrums effected even the most passive of the SVeijarn pups. He would sob and cry or sit down and refuse to move another inch. Why? He didn't really have a rhyme or reason. He just missed the comfort of their den and its soft deerskin carpet. Sore paws and soft baby muscle certainly didn't help.

After what seemed like forever, the caravan stopped, and Valtýr nearly crashed into his siblings as they had into the legs of adults. His big ears drooped until exhausted eyes caught the dance of colors in twilight's sky. Tuwawi announced their arrival, followed by Njal, and (seemingly) all at once the big wolves began to howl and sing grandiose melodies. It was beautiful. The little firstborn managed to put aside his fatigue to point his firebranded nose towards the sky and warble out his own puppy tune. His voice was a bit squeaky, but his message was the same: I live here now!

A few minutes passed and the exultation died to a quiet hush. Father's voice boomed over the rest and even though he was tired, his voice remained sincere. Jökull gave a rare gesture of affection, kissing Val's dusty brow, to which he gave a big sloppy kiss back. Then, as everyone else did, he fell into line and followed the group into the heart of their new kingdom: Duskfire Glacier.