I don't wanna get chased off with a shotgun

Valkyrie lay stretched out beside a stream with her skull mask pinned between her forepaws. One thing she hadn't anticipated when she'd decided to keep it as armor was how labor intensive cleaning it would be. If she had known its many nooks and crannies would be magnets for blood and guts she maybe would have reconsidered it. Maybe.

Presently she was picking flecks of blood out of the bear's teeth with her claws. It was boring, labor intensive work but it needed to be done. She couldn't run into battle with the teeth on her skull mask looking like they belonged to a backwoods hillbilly, could she? No, no she could not.

She paused mid scratch and looked up when movement out of the corner of her eye drew her attention away from the task at hand. Her aunt Eisleif's beau was approaching looking very much like a man on a mission. Valkyrie almost dismissed him and went back to her work; it seemed likely he was there only for the elder viking. She hadn't seen him once since their initial meeting so she could only assume he had no interest in her. And yet he was deliberately walking in her direction, wasn't he?