Bjørn may seem like a gruff man, years of loss and sadness has caused him to shield his heart. But, no matter how indifferent he might appear to be, Bjørn has always had a soft spot for animals. His life had been normal, once upon a time. The farm where he lived his first twenty-seven years of life had taught him many important lessons. He knows when to sow seeds and when to harvest. When till soil and when to let the land be. Hot summer days had been spent out in the fields learning the feel of dirt under his palms. How simple life had been in those day. The most important lesson he learned was from the animals. Each on had unique quality to offer and Bjørn learned to give them each loving respect.

As he stands under the tree, arm stretched up to gentle caress the soft leg of the Siamese cat, Bjørn remembers animals he has shared his heart with. He has had dogs, cats, birds, reptiles... any creature that wanted to come home with him was loved and cared for the rest of their days. But, each time one of his friends passed on, the lonely man's heart broken a little more. The pain had been too much and, due to his unnaturally long life, Bjørn swore off having pets... for his own sake. But life likes to make us all a fool and, as he looks up into those ocean-hued eyes, the hunter feels the deep stirring of love. He holds the cat's paw for a moment, offering her a gentle smile before settling on the ground to offer his lap.

The cat trills at him and he chuckles softly as she nimbly leaps down and into his lap. Bjørn casts his hazel gaze around the snow blanketed area as he allows the beautiful cat to circle his lap and settle down. Finding no immediate danger, the hunter turns his eyes back to the beautiful cat. Lifting his right hand up toward the feline's back, Bjørn runs his cold, stiff fingers gently through the fur. A deep hum of contentment rumbles in his chest as the cold hunter lovingly pets the cat. Calloused fingers move with softness that many would not expect from them. He looks at his hand as it cards through the soft fur, remembering all the times it has been covered in blood.

That hand has ended so many lives, trained with many different weapons, held so many hands of dying loved ones... Hazel eyes return to those sparkling oceanic blues and Bjørn offers the cat a sad smile. He brings his other hand up to gently rub circles on the cat's cheek just behind the whiskers. The fur is soft and she appears to be well-groomed... does she already have a family? With worry, and some not-so-well-hidden sadness, knitting his brow, Bjørn says, "Did you get lost pretty lady? Surely a cat as beautiful as you has a sweet family waiting for her." A sad smile passes across his pale lips as Bjørn continues to pet the cat, the hand scratching her dark cheek shifts to gently rub behind her ear.

Maybe he had been idiot, charging out into the snow improperly dressed for the weather but the hunt had been urgent. Bjørn shifts slightly to relieve some tingling in his legs and the black scabbard that houses his sword pokes painfully into his back. Well... the hunt ended in his favor and he has met a new friend. All in all, a half-assed plan has led to a happy discovery. He holds the cat's gaze, offering her a small smile as he says, "Once I warm up a little I will help you find your family." Suddenly, the sound of snow crunching under small boots has Bjørn's head snapping toward the direction he had just come from. Casting a glance back at the feline he whispers to her, "You expecting company, pretty lady?" Glancing down to read the cat's body language, the hunter finds no sign of distress.

Bjørn decides to trust the cat's instinct, knowing that animals are usually the best judge of character. So, as the dark-haired women come into view, the hunter schools his features into a relaxed, neutral expression as he continues to run his hands slowly through the dark cream fur of the cat's back. As the feline gives a loud meow, Bjørn slowly tenses his muscles ready to leap into action... if it needed. The cold hunter stays seated under the tree, the purring cat keeping the man rooted to his spot in snow. Calling out to the women with his deep, rich tones, Bjørn says, "Hey. You two wouldn't happen to be looking for lost cat... would you?" Casting a glance to the cat he whispers softly so only her sensitive ears can hear, "Be ready to climb if things go sideways, pretty one."