GOTCHA!!

Pups are sturdy creatures, squishy and bouncy. While Viðarr was more than happy to supervise, his brand of supervision is maybe less vigilant than most. Children needed a chance to skin their knees. They needed to get a bit banged up, that's how they learned their limits. It was how he and his siblings had been raised, and clearly they'd turned out just fine-- or, well, fine enough. Questionably functional members of society and all that... ahem.

All of this to say, Viðarr is happy to seat himself as the fun babysitter.

As Delphi makes a show of sneaking up on him, the shadow is content to ignore her. He has stopped for a morning drink and a wash of his face in the cool, clear river that snakes through their current stomping grounds. His muzzle against the cold water, taking a long drink. It's then that she shouts, pouncing upon him. Viðarr shifts his weight to remain steady as the pup crash lands into his back, making a show of folding slowly and in the most exaggerated way possible to the ground. "Oh noooo," he can barely chase the chuckle from his voice. "I am slain, taken by the most fearsome skjaldmær to ever live!" His grin warm as the morning sun itself as he flattened dramatically against the sandy bank.

"Viðarr"