Little soldier boy He was moving with his companions once more. His plans to find more things he could bring home to his mom and Sprig. Not that they were lacking in gifts from him by this point but he was definitely going to bring Sprig something she would like. Maybe something she could use for her little garden on her back, not that he knew anything about plants but it would be epically awesome if she was so happy with his gift that she used it forever. His paw hands were working free some debris when he heard a sound half howl, half yip. Well fuck him right? He turned and there they were, a pack of 4 of the mangy bastards coming directly for him. He dropped his little goody bag he had been holding and lowered his head with a snarl. He could already hear Andrei throwing a fuss up above but he and Nikolai were ready to kick into action. His muscles tensed and he waited until one was close before launching. His jaws grasping one by the cheek as a snarl ripped from him. His eyes narrowed and another came up grabbing his back hock but Nikolai was on it, basically tackling it and causing it to yelp. Walk, "Talk", Think Come marching home

From the scent trails, it seemed his father and brother had safely made it to the Hallows. Why did Björn⁢ even care so much, after what had gone down? Why was he supposed to give a shit? Erik could handle himself, and handle Víðarr well enough that it shouldn't matter. They weren't Björn⁢'s problem anymore, that much had been made clear. Still... no. No, he needed to still those feelings. He needed to steel himself.

He needed a goddamn outlet. Too close to the Hallows for comfort, but near enough to the sea that he might forget about things for a bit. Hermit's Cove is peaceful, at least for the time being. Wintry tide pools, too chilly and salty to enjoy, cracked the land. It's not so bad out here. Facing the sea to the east, peering out over it... maybe he can forget. Maybe he can let go of shit long enough to splash within them and find a snack. The fishing was probably pretty good here, after all.

Those thoughts are quickly waved away by something else. Yips, yaps, the chattering of coyotes shattering his relative calm. They're not coming for him, but hell, maybe that was the outlet he was looking for. Taking off at a dead run down the sand, heading toward the source of the sound. Ears pressed to his skull and yearning in his gaze, Björn⁢ is primed and ready long before he sees them.

"Jävlar fitta," the words coming more loudly than he'd hoped. Cursing and springing to action, as they've got some kid surrounded. Four mangy fucks... right. An outlet. The outlet for his rage, for his frustration, and maybe he'd be doing something not so bad with it. Springing to life with deadly grace, Björn⁢ springs on one of the beasts flanking the child. Bringing his weight down on the beast's back, all brute force. Yeah. This would do. This would do fucking nicely.

"Björn"

Little soldier boy He was tangoing with the one coyote and had 2 others about to come for him when another came barreling onto the scene. His focus was on the Coyote in his face though as he shook his neck with the coyote firmly in his jaws and extended his claws. His paws cam up grabbing hold of the canine on it's snout and front leg as it tried to bite him back but only got a hold on his mohawk, the bristle causing it to let go and immediately recoil. Nikolai was barking mad from the sounds of it too. The wolverine was Tangoing with his own, only he was hanging from it's face and was shaking his entire body like a dog with a rope toy. The coyote was screaming and bleeding profusely. Titus knew his mom was gonna have a cow when he went home tonight too. They were gonna be covered in blood again. At least it wasn't theirs, yet. Walk, "Talk", Think Come marching home

Hermit's Cove... should be serene. Should be quiet. How Björn wishes they'd all just be quiet. The silty ground beneath is paws is shifting, fighting against him. The rot prince struggles to maintain his balance, but fuck it, what's life without a little challenge?

Throwing the first crumbling coyote and watching it rag doll in the sand, Björn turns to the child. Watching another beast try to take the boy by the bristles, and recoil in confusion. Seeing an opening, Björn grabs it by the scruff in turn. Slamming it down, allowing the pressure to build up in his skull.

The torrent of blood that follows from Björn's face is particularly gruesome, but at least he's choosing to bleed. A horrifying sight, but wildly effective, the coyote beneath him confused as it's coated with blood it hadn't spilled. Taking swift control of the creature, he rips into it with savage grace. Snarling, gnashing his teeth, and turning the fucker into a fun red mist. Yeah, this would do fine.

"Björn"

Little soldier boy The coyote who bit his mane was snatched by the man who had come to help, but Titus wasn't concerned with it. He could see the wolverine shredding his and the silence as that one fell to the menacing beast. Nikolai wasn't just stopping at it's death though, instead he was mauling it's body. Titus pushed forward keeping the coyote in his jaws, until a loud snap was heard. Good fucker could have broken legs and he would be breaking its neck. Its screams of pain and shock were loud and obnoxious. He let go of its neck and pulled his lips at the noise. Then he was snapping his neck forward, ripping at it's throat flesh. Then he was stepping back and looking to the man, "Thanks." He looked at the one he had killed before setting to ripping it's tail off for his collection. Uncle Art would be proud of him. Then he moved to pick op the drawstring bag, slinging the tail over his back. Walk, "Talk", Think Come marching home

Breaking bones, breaking necks, breaking bodies. They fall around him, one by one. Björn revels in it. An act of violence without repercussions, at least, without any major repercussions. Though the last coyote comes to take a cheap shot at his heels, Björn is quick to turn. Goring at the beast with his antlers, watching as they sink into flesh. It's satisfying, really. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Surrounded by nothing more than corpses, and the pup who he'd bailed out in the first place.

Gaze sweeping the shore, it seems the threat has subsided. Offering little more than a nod to the pup once he seems alright... yeah. Boy was in good spirits. Björn is gruff, the act of kindness self-serving. Really, it's whatever. He just needed the outlet.

"Björn"