The pack slowly trickled in to her call, some still high on adrenaline and some clearly feeling their wounds and the long journey. She flicked her ears quizzically at Hypnos' seeming despondence, since surely he had no injuries to bring down his mood in such a manner. No matter - she had more to concern herself with than a few moody pack members. Nearly everyone appeared, though Kismet was notably absent, and silver eyes narrowed. Had he not been watching the borders after all? Hare, and her niece and nephew joined them to inquire as to how the raid went. "It went well enough," she told them, then raised her voice to begin the celebration. "Heil, Yfir! I have brought you together to celebrate a glorious start to the raiding season. Yfir has met Threar in battle as we had all hoped to do. We lost no raiders and there were no serious injuries. That is just cause to give thanks to the gods! Tonight we will sacrifice and feast and toast our warriors. Tomorrow we will heal, and begin to prepare ourselves anew for new raids. The packs of Alacritis would do well to look to their borders!" She sent a fierce look around them, at all the potential in those faces that stared at her, a promise from the gods of greatness. She would help them fulfill that greatness.
"It is custom to begin every blót with a sacrifice," she told them all solemnly. Some of them had been with her for a long time and would know the traditions. Some had grown up within them. Others were still learning, though, and so she would explain. "Our Hirdha Kassander and his companion the fox Rommel have assisted me in providing this young stag to honor Tyr. We will spill his blood in offering, that the gods may join us in our feasting. His blood will cleanse us, and be a sign of our kinship with the gods."
Turning her face upwards to the stars she spoke aloud, "Tyr, hvis ære har alltid vært lyse, ga du av deg selv at ulven kan være bundet. Tyr, mektige, enhånds som ikke ler, hører min røst på denne dagen som jeg kaller til deg." Leaning down, she laved her tongue over the drugged deer's throat in a ritual cleansing, feeling the rapid fear-pulse of the stag's blood pounding through his veins beneath her tongue. "Tyr, ber vi om at du godtar blod denne stag har din æresprisen . Heil Tyr." In one swift motion she opened the big veins of the stag's throat and stepped back as it spasmed and kicked out as the blood spilled across the stones at her feet. She watched impassively in the hush as it's struggles grew sluggish and finally ceased. "We give thanks for the strength of our limbs, the blood in our veins, the soundness of our minds, and the courage in our hearts." She lifted a forepaw, coated in the dark blood of the stag, and smeared the viscous liquid across her face. Her dark-tipped tail dragged through the blood, gathering the precious warmth, and she stepped forward to the pack in great gravity, leaving behind bloody footprints as she walked among them. Flicking her tail to send droplets of blood across the faces of each pack member one by one, she intoned the words. Flick. "Heil Odin og Frig." Flick. "Heil, Freyr og Freyja." Flick. "Heil det altseende Heimdallr." Flick. "Heil til Æsir, og Vanir." Until the blood of the stag had touch all present, and marked them as Yfir.
She returned to the forefront of the group with great bounding leaps. Heill ok sæll! she spoke, her head raised and her eyes half closed, in greeting to the gods she knew had joined them. She basked a moment, then turned her head down to face the pack once more. "Before we commence our celebration there is a thing of great import that must be done. Laufey, please come forward."
She waited as the giant of a wolf did as bidden, and she pressed a paw to his shoulders to coax him to lay upon the earth. Blood smeared across his white coat. Staring down at him, glancing out at the curious faces, she experienced a moment of doubt. She was a warrior, not a priest. She knew the rites, she could follow the motions, but what meaning did they have in such inexperienced and unworthy paws as hers? But they had no priest, no wolf more experienced than she, and so she must step forward as she had done all these years. There was no time for self-doubt and timidity. "A child has been born to the Finnvi," she intoned. "Who will step forth to claim this child as their own, that the gods will see him and know him as a child of the Finnvi?" Her eyes met Kapra's with a questioning quirk. Her role was done - it was up to him now to complete the rite to claim Laufey into the family he had been born to.
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