LORD, I AM CLIMBING HIGH MOUNTAINS TRYING TO GET HOME
Trying to get home...
Lyndvarr had been struggling to deal with the whirlpool of emotions he was feeling upon learning of his mother's passing. Part of him had always known. After all, before she'd left Auöra had more or less predicted her own death, even if it hadn't seemed to be the case then his mother's premonition now seemed all to clear. She'd been sacrificed to the gods. It was this that gave him some hope, some pride. How could he not feel pride for the woman who would sacrifice her own life that it might protect those she loved? And it was a gentler death, at the jaws of someone she loved and trusted like her sister Katja. Not left to the brutal mercies of an enemies fang. It was true that that was where he would seek to meet his own death but it was not something that suited so ethereal a woman as his mother.
Still… he mourned her absence. He'd wept where he hoped others would not see. Lynd felt it deeply, a cold blade in the center of his beating heart but he would not remove this blade. He would not let his feelings bleed out into the open. He would keep it there as a reminder of her and a reminder of his oaths.
Lyndvarr had chosen to ease his burden with practical chores. Digging and refurnishing dens, patrolling the borders and aiding the remaining Yfir wolves in hunting. He'd also spent a fair amount of time stocking his storage den with spring herbs. A call rang out and his heart leapt. Katja was back! Lyndvarr raced to meet his aunt and her war party, trotting up next to the chatty male bi-colored male. "Welcome back Katja! How did it go?"
