"Oh, dear brother, you are absolutely right," came a sly voice from the ashy terrain not far away. Up padded Loki, looking downright urchin-like with the ash streaking his normally-immaculately silky fur. "Hati can take care of himself. He has been doing such a fine job of it without us thus far, hasn't he?"
He too poked at the slumbering form of his elder brother, with disgust, as one may poke at a week-old corpse. The unconscious Hroovitnisson gave an odd sound, half grunt and half pained groan. Loki grinned... he had poked him right on the festering wound on his shoulder. Oh wait. Eww. Festering wound. Loki rubbed his paw frantically in the ash.
"He must have faced a truly mighty foe, to bring him down thus, he said when he'd judged the paw to be... relatively clean. Judging by the size of the wounds, I would guess... a rabbit. Maybe a fox. Truly mighty."
He sent Weth a malicious grin and a wink. It was her she'd followed out here to this abominably ashy wasteland with this unexpected gathering of all the people disliked most - aside from Weth, who he liked, and Tyr, who he disliked but who hadn't bothered to show up. He turned his attention to his moronic younger siblings. Thor, who was his littermate and had somehow managed to turn out even more idiotic than Hati, and Baldur who was Weth's littermate and just as bad as Thor.
"Fancy meeting the two of you way out here," he murmured. "Did you grow tired of dear uncle Vili's hospitality, then? Or did he finally get around to throwing you out of the pack, hm?"
"Speech"
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