~ where innocences burn in flames.
A smirk of amusement traces his lips as he watches the girl through a fit and curse, as if this would cure her situation. As she whips her head to look at him and a scowl contorts her face, his smirk deepens. She is of fire and it smolders within those dark eyes. His ears flick atop his crown as he settles down next to her, his hind hoof cocks and his hip drops as he relaxes. He is not put off by her scowl nor her brash outburst.
"It seems the Norns are kind to you, for you have washed up on the Isles with no injuries," he nods as his glacial eyes slide over her body to insure that he is correct. "Some are not as fortunate. If I were you I would make an offering to the gods," he says with a swish of his tail.
He eyes her with curiosity. He has questions to ask, but they would have to wait. She does not look like she is in the mood to play twenty questions. Her eyes flick behind him, as if she looks for someone or something. His glacial eyes follow her gaze only to find empty grasses as they bend against the soft breeze. There is no one who approaches and this brings relief to the Icelandic warrior.
As she speaks he focuses his gaze back on her. Which herd is yours? Then it begins to dawn on him, she does not realize that she is on the Lost Isles. His brow furrows briefly as he decides how to best tell her that she is not on any shores she will recognize.
"My herd resides in the Ridge, on the Lost Isles..." he offers with a drop of his crown, in hopes that he can deliver this news kindly that she is now longer in a land she will recognize. A land that is far from anyone or anything she has ever known.
"Translation:
Björn - Icelandic mutt - 10 years old - Grullo Sabino
Bera Konung of the Ridge