...And my axe!

Her laugh sounded promising, but the weariness never left his eyes. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had chosen Bylgja to place this duty in. By reaching out to her in this way, he was displaying a point of weakness. Giving her a power over him, as he told her of something he needed. There were many ways she could turn it against him.

She placed conditions around her offer, and he listened carefully. He couldn’t find any fault with them, and he may even learn something by hunting with her. “I can agree to this,” He said. He was something of a recluse, and it would force him to interact with her more. But she did not seem so terrible a wolf to speak to. He knew he should probably thank her, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to say the words. Too much anger at having his freedom stolen, his actions dictated. He was surprised she didn’t ask why he was a Thrall, since that knowledge may well change her approach. But if she wasn’t going to ask, he wouldn’t volunteer it.

“Strai,” He corrected her absently. “I don’t, I’m not familiar with dyes” He said, glancing up from his carving for a moment. He’d needed to learn, and it certainly hadn’t been a priority of his mothers.


"Speech"