Odin's Prize

Celebration

Maddess entwined with chaos envelopes the inside of the Longhouse.

A tapping on the window makes me turn my head to look at the Crow that is moving its beak as if I can understand the language it speaks. The healer who looks like an older version of my mother puts her finger to her lips blowing towards the Crow whose beak is now shut.

The twelve females are now viciously attacking females dragging them by their necks to the Community table. Only the older females of the group of twelve are having an easier time; the younger females are getting handled more severely by their opponents. The Far North females fight differently than I have been trained.

Never stopping with their movements fists meeting muscles and bones.

Coiling

Springing

Rushing

Becca would have a difficult time with the agility of these females; none possess her natural strength this is all the Art of Movement. Deflection of hits, with the mastery of connection to cause the most damage possible. 

Luna Bessa gets another female, efficiently handling her before the ladle is tipped to a closed mouth. The Luna plugs the female's nose and waits with a smile full of sharp teeth. When she takes that inhaled breath the food is tipped down her throat.

"You defend this abomination. This is wrong!" Another female screams and points towards me. A gasp is coming out of the female who just uttered those words, a knife gets buried into her left shoulder. 

Elska has risen, her right hand in the air, fingers extended, head tilted to the left, her left hand drawing another knife from the table. Her face remains hidden.

Odin and his father have squared off, standing to their completed heights. Both males have no intentions of breaking eye contact. 

"This is not how it's done, Odin. Stand down." The thundering sound of a voice unleashes out towards a son that braces himself against it. Odin stands solidly in his spot without any movement. 

Odin's Uncle is the first to rise, his body stretching itself with a height that almost competes with Bryon's. Making his way towards father and son without any toned haste in his step. He makes the time to regard every male in the eyes. They take the time to consider him as well before their vision bends quickly downward. 

Bryon stands from his spot, raising himself in his completed full height. Walking heavily, towards Odin, posturing, shoulders back, head straight, a flash of fang to the males in the gathering. He takes Odin's right. A male is coming from a shadow as if waiting for this exact moment to make his presence known, he's Odin's brother. 

Just a toned down version. 

His walk is purposeful; there is no discretion of intended tone. He's making himself heard; he wants to fight, anything. He's without care that anything can do damage to him. His forearm holds the same tattoos as Odin except there is lots of canvas left on the pristine skin.

Odin does not look when his brother stands on his Uncle's left, everything about Odin is singling towards his father that he's not going to turn tail, he's staying exactly where he is, unmovable.

Male after male stands up and gets behind Alpha Borson very few males stand with Odin, the ones that are standing I recognize as the ones that went with Odin to the Far South that helped him build the line of Tribute he made for me.

The group of twelve breaks from their fight to stand behind Odin, and their mates. I can tell because they rub their bloody cheeks against their arms in greeting.