silver is the grip on the helping hand
[ strai ] [ hunting med prey + healing ]
She listened. Her ears swivelled forward. If he had stolen food, she could spin that as him having been desperate to survive. But then he revealed what had happened, and her brow points rose up sharply. A little smile flickered on the side of her snout; she had to remain serious, but she was somewhat impressed by the boy's spark, to say the least. He'd fought Vidarr twice and scratched his son? Scarred his son, even. Bylgja could see why the boy had been made a Thrall, certainly, after that... but he had been left alive, and given a chance to earn his freedom. She nodded, once, then said: "How long ago was this?" That, too, would be important: she needed to know, so she could try to get a better handle on the time that had passed. Now, Strai wasn't living the most wonderful of lives, but he was alive-- a Thrall, yes, but alive. While he had been foolish, she felt... it would be good to speak for him. A scared and lonely and starving child could not be expected to think rationally, and he had clearly matured.
"Twice! I can't say I'm surprised. I'll speak with Vidarr, to try to gauge his feeling on this before the Thing, perhaps. But I will ask each season, if I must, until you are freed." She had clearly not changed her opinion on the boy, given all this information. Bylgja motioned with her chin--"I think we should start disassembling the reindeer, Strai. Take what you need, first, then we can harvest the rest for common cause." It would do good if the pack saw Strai contributing a kill in this way, she supposed. |
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| 1. | silver is the grip on the helping hand | Fenrir's Maw | 04:10 PM, 10-14-2023 | 10:01 AM, 01-04-2024 |