Adrift

A hearty chuckle as he settled down, uncorking his own bottle. "You, no. I feel like I do." He allowed his long limbs to stretch before and behind him. Lounging on his side, peering out over the Sound. While he'd initially had thoughts that didn't include the Maw, he wasn't sure he could imagine life anywhere else now. Sure, he still held ill will toward the pack that now called their original stomping grounds home, but this suited them so incredibly well. Viðarr was pleased with the mountain and how life was coming together upon it.

Róta brings up the salmon, and he hums softly in agreement. "Get the yearlings to help you with it, they should learn." He nodded, an eyebrow lifting. Would she be willing to take on giving that lesson? Viðarr could hope. "Things will get very busy, very soon. I feel better when I know you're keeping an eye on things too." He spoke, steady gaze remaining on the Sound and the setting sun before them. Viðarr knew he was making a heavy ask, but he trusts Róta more than any of the others, as much as his own wife. He knows that the can't do this entirely on his own, and the pack is stronger together. They would always be stronger together. He's grateful for that. For her. Even if he doesn't always have the best way to show it.

"Viðarr"