ride with the wind

The call of their father was loud and clarion, summoning all of Heiðinn to a meeting. And well, he was technically part of the "all" too! So off Hallvarðr ran, scampering down the winding mountain paths towards the meeting point to rendezvous with his sire and the rest of his family. His father had been so sullen as of late, ever since his trip down to the Hallows. Hal didn't know exactly what had happened at the southern pack, but it had been bad enough to make his usually austere father come back looking like he'd witnessed the death of a god. Maybe whatever this meeting was about would help cheer up his sire! At two seasons old, Hal stood at about half his adult height, still bearing plenty of puppy chub but making it increasingly obvious that he would be a large and stocky boy that would match his sire's genes as he grew.

Riding down in the reindeer-pulled sleigh to the meeting, Hal saw his father gathered already, as well as several other members of Heiðinn. The boy beat his large paws anxiously against the railing of the sled, unable to contain himself as they pulled up. Without waiting for permission, Hal jumped out as soon as the sled came to a halt, eager to go sit next to his parents to listen in to what was to be said, bushy tail all a-wag with excitement. "Who're we killing, Pappa?" asked the excited lad, ready to watch some blood be shed with a wide toothy grin.