Dragoncrest Cliffs Then let the storm roll in
Fear is the heart of love
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The snow continued to pile and food had grown scarce.  Fortunately the sea continued to provide... but the bitter cold wasn't something Rosalyn wished to test right now.  It was early morning when she rose and her legs ached, so she pushed her way out and towards the eastern forests.

Life moved forward.  She was subdued, quiet, but she hadn't stalled out.  Their children needed food and security, Erzulie had spoken of more, and soon they would need to recruit.  She couldn't feel excited about replacing those lost, but she looked towards it regardless.

When the snows stilled she would range.  She'd been a titled ambassador for many years now, though the skills were perhaps not as important to her now.  A pack hunt, recruitment, and together they would grow stronger.  The cost had been too high, but the bear was destroyed.

Rosalyn stopped, gazing across the white.  Hopefully her keen eye could catch tracks that would indicate another passing through... something either to take herself or to track for the pack together.
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Njord patrolled the borders with @Merlin as snow continued to fall and recounted the tragedies of Kaertok’s, Raleska’s, and Rosencrantz’s death. The red-tail had gone out to look for Regin without any luck, forced to retreat by another series of bad storms. When would it ever end? Together, Merlin and Njord broke snow… it was important to protect the remaining members of Sapphique. They could not afford another invasion.

The pair travelled together until Merlin was indisposed by a crippling migraine. Njord worried for him… the headaches seemed to be getting worse… or maybe, he was around him more and so he could witness the effects. Would Merlin be alright? With a concerned look they arrived back at Merlin’s den, where Njord split off.

The wind continued to buffet him, but by now Njord’s winter coat had come in full-force. He had never seen his fur so thick! It was amazing how the body adapted. Still, a wolf out too long in this weather was liable to lose an ear, tail, or toe to frostbite. For now, he would be fine… and the concern of responsibility fueled the fire to provide for his people. Every adult member had to carry their weight.

Eventually the weather lapsed. He crossed paths with Rosalyn serendipitously, picking her tattered nutmeg-colored coat out against the fresh white. Njord approached her tentatively… he felt Rosalyn was hit hardest by their recent loss. He had watched her cry, inconsolable, at the wake of Kaertok, Raleska, and Rosencrantz. Like Njord, she seemed to be throwing herself into work as a distraction… or maybe she felt the same burden, same anxiety, to protect what they had left.

He approached the queen, but didn’t say anything (he didn't know the right thing to say). His keen blue gaze followed her’s to search for signs of prey. He was ready to hunt besides her, so they may take down greater game to feed their people, her children.
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Fear is the heart of love
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Rosalyn acknowledged Njord's presence with a slight tilt of her head, but remained intent on her search.  She hadn't had many words to say to anyone lately, she found, though she knew there were likely some that were proper.  Asking how he was, seeing how others fared.  She was just too tired to hear the replies and incapable of feigning interest in the answers.

I was hoping to find something big enough to merit a group.  It's been a while since we've hunted as a pack,  Rosalyn finally said, breaking the silence with a quiet explanation.  If nothing else, a sea lion might do.  She'd rather avoid the sea creatures as Merlin has professed a preference, and their own children lacked experience.  But any hunt was better than no hunt at all.

Especially now.
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After a moment of silence Rosalyn got right to the point. He appreciated her forthrightness and work ethic, and turning in to the family was something he could respect and relate to. “Aye, tha’ sounds like a fine plan, ta me,” he agreed with a bobbing nod and a wave of his red tail. He calibrated his intonation to be especially cheerful in an attempt to fill the pit that sadness liked to dig.

“Ahhhh sealion! Now there’s somethin’ I ‘aven’t tasted in a while,” Njord almost began drooling on the spot. He didn’t know of Merlin’s aversion… or maybe he hadn’t tasted the sweet meat of the sea! Besides, Njord’s beach hunting skills were far superior to his capability at hunting mainland prey. “Want ta call tha’ others?” he queried, “or should you an’ I try ta surprise ‘em with a feast?”
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She didn't acknowledge his tone, though she did incline her head to the preference.  They'd start out on the coast then, see what they could find, and then strike inland if not.  I thought that we might see first, then bring the others if what we find is too big to take ourselves.  She answered, turning their course so that it angled towards the shore almost without thought.  No use bothering a group if we find nothing.  There was a pretty high likelihood as the days grew colder.

You hunted seal, back home? She asked.  Perhaps not home any longer, but he'd take her meaning, no doubt.  She had inklings he'd come from a coastal place before, but she had few true details of it.  It was good to have more used to the shore and the sea and her dangers, though; adding bodies made her nervous at times, for all it took was one careless swim for a soul to be lost.  Ironsea had made that abundantly clear.
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“Sounds like a plan ta me!” Njord sang in response. He moved besides Rosalyn as she turned towards the direction of Dragoncrest’s beach and trotted in time with the kingpin. Njord had spent so much time becoming accustomed to Teekon’s native prey, that he had spent little time beachcombing. He was happy to return to his roots where he felt most comfortable.

When Rosalyn inquired about hunting seal back home, Njord nodded in response. He realized, then, he had neglected to know Rosalyn nearly as well as Erzulie. “Aye, seal was a favorite of mine since I was a wee lad,” he laughed in response. “Growin’ up on an island… we ate everythin’ tha sea offered up. Fish, crab, mussels, clams… even managed an old whale carcass once upon a time. Seals, though… they can be tricky lil’ beasties. They’ve got a wicked bite… but more likely to slip into tha wat’r before ya can make the kill.” 

He paused, wondering how Rosalyn had managed such an extensive knowledge of coastal life. "What about you, Ros? Don't recall you tellin' me how ya grew up to know ta know 'bout tha sea."
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Sounds like a pretty good life, she responded, picturing it.  Thoughts of an island brought up faint memories of swimming to an island on the coast here, but the details were lost.  A trip with Erzulie, no doubt... perhaps when they'd been scouting new homes after Ironsea fell?

It hardly mattered.  Aye, they can be.  If we plan to hunt one, we might need to show some the ropes on that.  There were a fair number of landlocked wolves here now.  They'd resolve that soon enough.

It had been a long while since someone had asked about her past.  She was surprised by it, but didn't mind, and in fact was a tad touched.  I grew up south of here, on the coast.  Picked up what I could from anyone willing to teach me, before I was made to leave.  Some memories of the distant past came clearer than others, and that day was burned into her mind better than most of the rest.  Not her mother's face... just the sense of it.

Learned some from the pirates after, but it was different.  Feels like I've never lived far from the sea, and after a while, things just become natural. You forget a time when you didn't know it.  She couldn't say the first time she'd hunted a seal anymore, or the first time she'd swam within the waters.  All of it was as familiar as speaking.
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Sounds like a pretty good life, Rosalyn observed. Njord thought on that for a moment and all the resentments he held towards a life on Meares Island. A small pang of guilt struck him. Was it homesickness? Regret for rushing away so hastily? He felt like a man – no longer the child who had swam away from his family.

Njord meandered back to the present as his captain ruminated on teaching the wolves of Sapphique how to reap the ocean’s bounty. The red-tail nodded in agreement. She also spoke of pirates. Her life sounded adventurous. “S’that ‘ow ya got those scars?” he asked, “from tha pirates?”
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Sometimes Rosalyn forgot the scars, even with the loss of vision in one eye. She shook her head, recalling. She thought of it less now, especially with the cliffs full of memories and wolves long removed from that time.

I got these here, from the wolves that claimed this place before us. She answered, unbothered by the question. They held me on the beach, and when I tried to escape, I earned these. She'd managed it, though, yes? A fight, she'd fled into the forest, the witch behind her.... no. That wasn't right.

They are gone now. So we claimed what they left. Rosalyn finished, cutting the tale short when she found the details to be hard to recall. In time they came back to her. She remembered returning to Erzulie, the witch there, and wishing to depart this edge of the coast for good. It was hard to imagine ever desiring that now.

It's better to own a thing than let it own you, Rosalyn added with quiet reflection. She wondered if Njord would understand the sentiment. He seemed so young compared to her, relatively untouched by such things. Yet she didn't know his past, did she?
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I’m gonna cap this one off and archive since it’s so old. Sorry for my delay!

Njord listened closely, eyes drifting to better regard at the many marks hidden among his superior’s pelage. Her story was stoic, but he knew she must have endured great pain. The past inhabitants of Dragoncrest must have been barbaric to inflict such torture on a still-living wolf. Njord frowned in disapproval.

“Aye,” he agreed, pleased that Rosalyn had achieved her recompense. At the end of the day, it was Sapphique who stood mightily on the cliffs.

He would continue his conversation – drifting to more lighthearted topics – until the pair arrived at the shore and stalked the sun basking seals. They would manage a successful kill, and feed the pack for another day.
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