I won’t be calling you dad

The thrill of the kill, the love for a hunt-- though it wasn't certain the boy was Viðarr's son by blood, that didn't matter. In the eyes of the gods, they were all his just the same. The pups were a gift, and he'd take them on with open arms. He lingered in Auster instead of going straight home, just in case they needed anything. It was hard to leave them in Tojo-kai, but he had hopes that his relationship with Hattori was on the mend. He would be back. He would always be back.

Typically respectful of borders, yes, but the shadow is drawn in by a small voice. One of his boys-- what did he have? Head lifting, Viðarr picked up a ground-eating jog to close the space between them. Akito seemed to be doing well, actually. Knocking the creature with his horns, watching it slam into the ground. The fossa was too close for comfort with the boy's shoulders. Viðarr grabbed the creature's heel, pulling backwards. He'd let Akito do most of the work, without getting seriously hurt. That would be ideal, in Viðarr's mind.

"Viðarr"