He had heard many voices on the wind lately. Prompted by an irrational desire to distance himself from the coast wolves - perhaps because winter was nearing its end - Njal made his way west. He followed the rocky shoreline until it petered out in to sand. It was easier to traverse the stone and dirt than to hike upon the sand, but when that gave way, he made due. He stopped frequently. It took hours to reach the cape, in part because of his aching leg, but also because he stopped to sniff at errant smells or to relieve himself. Evening settled across the salty strand as he reached what felt like the edge of the world. To his right there was ocean, to his left the distant hills reaching towards mountains and the plains; Njal was faced with the river's mouth before him, and not a soul for company.
eyjolfur had made the coastline her temporary homestead -- following her departure from bramblepoint she had gone west, carrying with her the constant pang of hunger and the seeping, all consuming weariness of haggard age. she had maintained a semblance of fitness despite the advancement of her years, but even then traveling towards the cape had proved arduous. it was during one such respite that she noticed a wolf -- a limping wolf -- and emboldened by his handicap, the savage drew near. it surprised her that he too was elder, though she wondered inwardly how much longer his flame fluttered on this pale earth.
He was not alone for long. She came out of nowhere, seemingly attached to the shadows, and would've gone unnoticed had he not felt a sharp twinge in his hip; this led him to sitting for a moment, twisting to inspect the wound and nibble at a patch of fur which clung desperately to bone. When he stopped, he saw her. A stormy grey woman - older, like himself - perhaps prowling for nefarious reasons. A breeze pulsed by him, ruffling the silver hairs of his scruff, and seemed to coax them to spike. If she was an enemy to him, he would not go willingly. Had they been closer to Saltwinter he might have made a point to comment, but as it stood now, Njal was aloof about this stranger.
the savage held back, her feral gaze tracing the old wolf's form with the same unabashed interest one would have found in a child. she pursed her lips as he noticed her and she noticed the rough rise of his hackles as if she had alarmed him. it was then a cheery smile coalesced her features, though it was entirely devoid of warmth. she slithered towards him, haling him with the comfort one would expect of an old friend. "hallo," she crowed, stalking on wearied limbs until she was just before him. "wie gehts?"
She spoke, slinking closer, and Njal watched her. While he had limited understanding of her language, it was eerily similar to the many languages of his first home. Still, he could not decipher it well enough. Instead of answering with any sense of pomp or interest, he simply turned back to his path and continued to stride along. There was an obvious difference in his gait now, a limp that slowed his progress.
her greeting was met with nothing - no rejoinder, no smile -- not even a gesture to encourage her advancement. darkly the old wolf curled her upper lip, running her tongue along her teeth in frustration. yet the limping wolf would not be the subject of her ire -- not today -- with a cold stare she shrugged and turned back towards the briarwood, leaving him where he passed along the trail.