                         forfrailty
liked for a starter.
                ‘ Come-- are you hurt? ’ The woods had beckoned him with the crack of branch and litter of leaves that had begun to tumble—and it had been his own will that had brought the young vigamaðr to skulk between thickets of tree with axe at a haphazard swing by his side. With the rustle that wheezed through the forest, a splutter of perturbation that trickled down Björn’s spine and raised the hackles of his blade, his thoughts turned to HUNTING, to clamouring to skin the animal---- but then it was a human face that stared back at him.
             ‘ Come. ’ He repeats, and a hand is extended. ‘ I am Björn—                       you should not be alone in a forest.                     Soon, it will be dark-- so come with me. ’
