The Tribe of the Winter’s Claw (Sejuani)

“You’re wounded.” Sejuani pointed out the obvious with a vague hint of concern within her voice for her fellow champion. “Continue at that pace and you’ll catch your death out here.” She knew Sivir was tough but she wasn’t a Freljordian, someone accustomed to the cold and harshness of the northern weather. “I don’t need to remind you of the northern dangers. I’ll be taking those wolves. There’s no sense in letting your work go to waste.” Bristle began to move past Sivir.

“I welcome you to rest within the confines of my tribe’s borders. There’s a storm coming.” If Sivir had a death wish she could neglect her offer and remain in the wilds, then again knowing Sivir she would probably show up regardless of what she did. She held no ill will for the Noxian, but felt her ways were rather misguided.

Sejuani had Bristle stop in his tracks, the boar lowered itself and then extended an arm to offer Sivir a ride. “This is a one-time deal. Do not get used to this.” She waited for Sivir to take her off before setting course to the wolves. “…I will expect you to help tie the carcasses to Bristle. We will take whatever we can before setting off.” There were already two animals neatly placed on the boar, how many more could he hold?