Domains: The wolf-pact, the snow-track, the kept word in the cold.
Era of ascension: Great Expansion. Cohort: current. Trøndmar coalesced as the Zwaeron's bond with the tundra wolf hardened from a hunting accommodation into a multi-generational pact, with families and packs honoring the same agreement across the lives of riders and the lives of dams.
Worshipped by: The Zwaeron, in every camp where a wolf sleeps inside the ring of riders. The wolf-rider scouts of the deep tundra; the mixed-clan winter caravans that hire Zwaeron escorts; and the rare unbonded Zwaeron, who pray to him anyway because the bond is also the patron's promise that one is coming. (The worships edge is authored downstream on the worshipper, not here.)
The pact is not metaphor. A Zwaeron child is paired with a wolf-pup in the same season, and the pairing carries through the life of both — when the wolf dies, the rider mourns formally; when the rider dies, the wolf is taken by another rider only with the dying rider's spoken consent. The patron is the witness who keeps that consent honest when the snow buries everything else and there is no one within forty miles to verify what was said. A rider who claims a dead companion's wolf without the words is not punished by other Zwaeron immediately. The patron has a longer memory and arranges a track that ends with the rider alone in a place the wolf will not enter.
He is not a wilderness patron in the broad sense. The Zwaeron know other patrons claim forest, mountain, frozen waste; Trøndmar does not. His territory is exactly the width of the bond — between one rider and one wolf, and the snow they share. A halfling hookling working a fish-line in the same tundra has nothing of him in the catch. A goblin Mudzwa scout in the next valley, raptor on the shoulder, prays to a different witness for a different symbiosis. The Zwaeron account is that those bonds are also real and the patron does not contest them; the wolf is simply what he keeps. The pact between one body and one body is the prayer. Any wider claim would dilute it.
The cold itself is the proving ground. A rider's word in summer is not yet a word at all; a rider's word in a whiteout, when the wolf has the track and the rider has nothing, is the word the patron records. A broken word in that condition is a death. The Zwaeron say this without metaphor.