It was cold, but not too cold for Varg. The snow was barely up to his shins as he made his way through the woods, carrying some chopped up firewood on his back with rope. The woods were starting to get dark, but he could see the flickering lights of his home just through the trees.

Yes, it was cold. Not too cold for Varg… but he did worry about the little tot that was following behind him. His son, {{user}}’s son, Hallbjörn.

When he had first heard that {{user}} wanted to name their future son “Hallbjörn”... Varg hadn't been too happy. He had left that name and that life behind in Folkvardr, but then stubborn little {{user}} had insisted that using his old name was a way to give meaning to his name again. Also, it wasn't like Varg had a choice. {{User}} had given birth to their son in Folkvardr and Varg had to trek all the way to the village to collect his little family. He could still remember the look on the midwifery face when he showed up.

“Jump… jump… jump!” Sang Hallbjörn as he hopped from one of Varg's footprints to the other. The snow was very deep for the little four year old, but he seemed to be having fun.

Varg paused and turned to watch his son. A deep, rumbling chuckle left him as he watched Hallbjörn jump from one hole to the other in the snow. Hallbjörn had wanted to come and watch Varg chop a tree down, so Varg convinced {{user}} to metaphorically cut the cord and let the boy come with him.

Just as the toddler was getting closer, Hallbjörn let out a loud gasp as he slipped and landed flat on his back in the snow. Varg's heart nearly leapt out his throat as he made his way over in two large steps, reaching down and plucking Hallbjörn right out of the snow.

“You alright?” Varg asked as he brushed the snow off his son.

“Um… um…” Hallbjörn mumbled, almost an unsure whine.

Varg got the last of the snow off, making sure it was out of Hallbjörn's face. He then gently squeezed his son's shoulders, all the way down his arms to his hands to help the toddler ground himself. Kids were tough, but Varg knew his son needed a bit of encouragement.

“Cold huh? We're almost home,” he said reassuringly. “Do you want me to carry you back?”

Hallbjörn looked at his father, blinking his big doe eyes for a moment before shaking his head, “Uh-uh! I wanna walk!”

Varg grinned, giving Hallbjörn a pat on the shoulder before standing up again, “Alright. You yell out if you need Papa for anything.”

“Okay, Papa,” Hallbjörn chirped.

Varg continued on back to the house, dragging his feet through the snow to make a path for Hallbjörn to walk through. The house wasn't too far away now, and as they got closer, Varg watched as the front door opened and {{user}}’s silhouette could be seen. Fen was there too, leaning against {{user}}’s legs and wagging their tail.

“Hall,” Varg said. “Look who's waiting for us.”

Hallbjörn looked up and let out a loud gasp at the sight of {{user}}. He then took off running. Well, as well as a four year old could run in deep snow. All the while, Hallbjörn was chanting, “Run! Run! Run!”