~ where innocences burn in flames.
The sea water runs in rivulets down his sides as he steps from the ocean's surf. He shakes out the excess water and it sprays in a shimmering dropplets all around him. His thick unkempt mane slaps against his muscular neck with a resounding smack. He breathes into the brisk morning air and it plumes in smoky curls around his fuzzy nostrils and whiskers. He moves from the edge of the surf and across the hardened sand, each stride is deliberate and with purpose.
Snow laden grass crunches and breaks beneath his weight as he pushes himself through the Meadow. It is a quiet place. Just the whisper of a the brisk winter winds through the brittle frosty grass... and the moan of another. He slows and swivels his head, fuzzy ears rotate as they try to locate the source. His glacial eyes glance around, but finds not a soul nor anyone to claim this noise. Perfect. He thinks to himself, now he is the one who has lost his damned mind.
He presses on and then the grunt comes again, this time there is vibrant crimson against the muted hues of the Meadow. He swivels his thick head to stare at the woman who itches herself against the rough bark of a tree. He ventures closer, his glacial eyes slide over her rough exterior and unkempt, matted coat. Peculiar woman indeed. He halts near to her, his crown tilts as he looks at her as she clearly enjoys the rough bark against her skin.
A smirk tugs at his lips and glacial eyes settle on her. "Þarftu aðstoð?" his native tongue slides from his whiskered lips as he draws close. "I could offer my assistance. I would assume that teeth are more beneficial than the bark of a tree."
It would be rude of him to not at-least offer.
Translation:
Þarftu aðstoð?: In need of assitance?
Björn - Icelandic mutt - 10 years old - Grullo Sabino
Bera Konung of the Ridge