The storm clouds had cleared but left behind was an ominous and overcast horizon that left little promise. Upon breaking free from his frozen prison, the mammoth of a male looked ahead with paused discontent. It wasn't often Tyr felt this little motivation upon seeing the tundra, but it was a laziness he was quick to swallow. His muzzle filled with a held breath before a sigh was released and like that, Tyr had pushed on with a shake of his head. That had been at sunrise, a time specifically chosen to suit the male's needs in order to adjust his course based on which direction the beacon rose.
Now, the sun had risen to it's quarter and his direction had stayed true to the south. He'd crossed sea ice, swam in the icy depths and hazarded his trials with risks he likely should not have taken - ones that could have landed him buried in the ocean floor. But, this male was of a different breed. Faith and risk came along in his journey hand in hand. Death was not eternal, it was nothing to fear and now his deity had awoken. Freya would light his tunnel even in the dark.
A fog had rolled in no sooner than his paws had touched the last stretch of sea ice, a world of it's own - an ocean that flowed down mountains and over hills, even across water like silk, scarcely touching the surface. It wouldn't be a worry for him but for most, seeing the ice begin to end under his feet and water begin... Well, without the visibility? You could just begin swimming in circles like a duck with a broken leg.
Numb toes landed upon a beach of obsidian, clawing their way forward as the monster clambered from the depths. Fur lay slack, soaked to the bone as the green eyed sea creature pulled himself further inland like a serpentine head of Lernaean Hydra. It wasn't until he stood tall, and shook the frosty water from his locks that you could distinguish his wolfish appearance. Left to right he peered, studying the world around him. Sand it seemed, sifted between his toes, grip hard to find and yet stable enough to know the ground was harder than most golden dunes he'd seen before. Volcanic? He knew not other than it's similarities. In front of him stood a wall of rock, it's height masked by the dense fog thus deeming it a curiosity to the freckled male. A few steps forward brought him his land legs once more and from there, he started thinking of a game plan.
How exactly does a full grown wolf scale a wall when he did not possess the anatomy of a goat?
Now, the sun had risen to it's quarter and his direction had stayed true to the south. He'd crossed sea ice, swam in the icy depths and hazarded his trials with risks he likely should not have taken - ones that could have landed him buried in the ocean floor. But, this male was of a different breed. Faith and risk came along in his journey hand in hand. Death was not eternal, it was nothing to fear and now his deity had awoken. Freya would light his tunnel even in the dark.
A fog had rolled in no sooner than his paws had touched the last stretch of sea ice, a world of it's own - an ocean that flowed down mountains and over hills, even across water like silk, scarcely touching the surface. It wouldn't be a worry for him but for most, seeing the ice begin to end under his feet and water begin... Well, without the visibility? You could just begin swimming in circles like a duck with a broken leg.
Numb toes landed upon a beach of obsidian, clawing their way forward as the monster clambered from the depths. Fur lay slack, soaked to the bone as the green eyed sea creature pulled himself further inland like a serpentine head of Lernaean Hydra. It wasn't until he stood tall, and shook the frosty water from his locks that you could distinguish his wolfish appearance. Left to right he peered, studying the world around him. Sand it seemed, sifted between his toes, grip hard to find and yet stable enough to know the ground was harder than most golden dunes he'd seen before. Volcanic? He knew not other than it's similarities. In front of him stood a wall of rock, it's height masked by the dense fog thus deeming it a curiosity to the freckled male. A few steps forward brought him his land legs once more and from there, he started thinking of a game plan.
How exactly does a full grown wolf scale a wall when he did not possess the anatomy of a goat?
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