Carrying the last name Harbinger came with a price… it was not one he had been willing to pay and now he found that he was starting to miss the giant lot of them. He had managed to get out of this debt by leaving the place he had once seen as a horrid cage. He even felt a small sadness for missing Odin who was probably dead by then given his old age. The Trickster carefully placed his paws in the soft white snow, his eyes narrowed to see through the storm that had been brewing in the portion of the north that he had started to call home. Each step came with a small thud as Gabriel came out to play. The young Harbinger boy plastered a wicked smile onto his face to match the atrocious thoughts that had presented themselves in an orderly manner.
He gave a small cough, feigning illness for any wolves or creatures in general that happened to have the misfortune of being nearby. He looked around the forest that seemed to whistle to the winds. A cursed forest indeed, which he could manage tell despite the training or therefore lack of that he had received. Loki’s unique eyes provided him with the sight up ahead that might have frightened his brothers. He began to laugh at the site of a deer decomposing, leaving the meat to rot. The animal had it coming. The tawny brute’s muscles highlighted themselves with every step the wretched creature took. Sometimes the earth really was stupid. Thick fur protected the boy from the harsh winter winds as he saw them as little to nothing. They were nothing like what he had endured the year prior.
The one good thing that had come to the boy at Farden’s Reach was the bitter northern cold. He could say, without a single doubt, that the cold never bothered him anyway. The wicked creature kept his pawsteps as light as he could as they bounced through the fresh layer of snow, untouched by the strangers that lived in and around the area. No one could stop the Prince of Tricks and Chaos.