s k ö l l
They’d put it off for as long as they could, but Sköll was apparently now old enough and strong enough to swim, and that meant it was time for Vargr and Gravewolf to join the bachelors in the lagoon. It would be a strange thing to be the only remaining foal in the forest, though he had never played much with the older duo nor his auntie when she had still been there. He wasn’t really sure what to expect all the same. Would they expect something from him now? Was there things he had to do as the oldest, and only, foal in the forest? Perhaps he would get free reign to do as he pleased like the older foals had. He would like that.
Postponing going straight to the lagoon, his mother had taken the three boys to see the falls – a day of fun and rest before they left everything they knew behind. Sköll didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. The forest had its merits but there was so much of the world to see. He could barely wait to explore the islands, even if it did mean swimming across countless bodies of water.
Under the afternoon sun, light dancing over his mostly white coat, Sköll stood beside the falls with a disgruntled sneer on his face, glaring at the water that pooled below the endless torrent of water. The swim from Luthien to the crossing had been eye opening in such a way that he truly felt the water needed to be reprimanded and severely punished. If looks could kill, the water would be so completely and utterly dead right now and it didn’t matter that the falls and the ocean were two entirely separate entities. He would tar every puddle and every lake alike with the same brush. As if to hammer that point home, he stepped forward and thrust his right foreleg violently into the crystalline water. It parted and splashed up against his white chest.
He snorted, brooding about how to effectively destroy his new enemy.
With your stolen eyes, I'm gonna stare at the sun
Until I burn them out, and then I'll picture a knife fight |
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