The scent of something bleeding captures Erik's attention, and not far behind that, the scent of his younger brother. Winter had come on, swift and brutal. Though he hoped to find Víðarr by now, it seemed the chase was fruitless. There's far more heartbreak hiding in the north than he knows, but the man pushes the thought down. Holds it back. He'd retire to Hearthstone and come back for a renewed search soon, but for now? The oncoming storm holds him off.
Hot on the moose's tail, Erik instead decides to track his younger brother. Finding the boy with his metaphorical wagons circled and equally as interested in the scent of moose, he squares his shoulders to Björn. "Looks like you made good on your word." There's pride in the bastard prince, grinning at his yearling brother. "I assume the moose was you. If I help your lot take it down, you should let me eat at your table." A glimmer in his orange gaze, already taking off down the blood trail.
"speech"
coded by NachoMumma
Warning: posts from this character often involve body horror.
Erik has a Norwegian forest cat that is assumed with him at all times.
