to know so little, to feel so much

The sudden appearance of the white wolf had Tyr flinching back, only to drop immediately to his belly at her grave words. Still sharp in his mind were memories of Hroovitnir's pack, of the way they treated trespassers - females force-claimed by either Hroovitnir or Vili, males torn apart. From what he'd later learned, his own mother had been such a trespasser, half-starved and too weak to fight back, and too weak to survive the birth of the litter Hroovitnir had immediately planted in her. His eyes darted from the wolf to the land around them, expecting at any moment for a border patrol to materialize as silently as she had, to exact revenge for the slight of him crossing their boundary.

"I'm sorry," he gasped. "I didn't know, I didn't realize that this was your territory. I'll go! I swear, I won't come back, just please don't..." Tongue running over his lips nervously, he rolled to his side to flash his belly in abject submission.

But the woman didn't seem like she was inclined to punish him - at least not immediately - for she had gone on to ask his name. Not that it was much of an indicator of goodwill, for his uncle Ve had often asked such questions to lull his victims into relaxing, before killing them, just to see the betrayal and horror in their eyes as their life drained away... Tyr shuddered. "I am Tyr, great lady," he whispered, retaining his posture as he cringed fearfully.



"Speech"

Nothing to gain, everything to fear