A small rabbit kill was clutched between Njord’s jaws as he headed towards the Roja den. He helped as the others did. Watching, cleaning, and caring for the two wounded boys.
The seafarer’s expression was perpetually troubled, and this expressed itself in a state of listlessness around
@Swordfish and
@Quennell. The adults all knew how close the two young men had flirted with death… and Njord still processed the ideas of it all.
He arrived. The pair were both sleeping.
Njord bent and began to shred his catch. Bitesize pieces for easy eating.
The smell of food woke him. Swordfish lifted his head groggily from where it had rested. He blinked into the low light until he could make out a familiar shape and smell.
Da?
The young seafarer was confused. Where was his mother? She had been close – he could feel where the warmth of her had been. Swordfish knew that Meerkat would not have drifted too far while he swam in darkness in the healing den. He couldn’t expect her to stay there, of course. She needed to eat, to walk, to tend to herself and her duties. It must have been suffocating to wait in the roja den while her son healed next to his battered friend.
What’r ya doin?
Njord was careful with his work, pulling muscle delicately away from the creature’s offal.
There was a stirring in the dark. Swordfish was awake. His youthful, drowsy, voice slurred like a lazy river.
“My boy,“ Njord cooed as he quickly took a step over to his son, meat pieces in tow.
“Dinna fash, lad… I brought ye some supper.” Njord laid down and glanced over to check on Quennell, who was sleeping, before his gaze fell onto the thick layer of kelp stuck onto Swordfish’ ribs.
Njord’s nose brushed across his forehead. Hot.
He clutched Swordfish's paw with his own.
“M’so grateful the both of ye made it back,” the man said as he fended off the emotions which threatened to destroy his composure.
Njord’s voice was a gentle rumble, reaching out in attempts to soothe the young wolf. Swordfish’s mind swam with the scent of meat. He all but jerked himself upright to get closer to the offerings his father toted toward him. He wanted to consider Quennell before devouring Njord’s carefully prepared food. The young wolf couldn’t help himself.
Touches were given, checking the fever that burned hot in his head. Swordfish thought he would go delirious. A paw placed on top of his. The boy looked up at his father with a fixed stare. The silver-flecked blue of his gaze was intense, as though scanning a distant horizon. Pink from his tongue appeared between his teeth – it felt thick and awkward in his mouth.
There’s a monster out there, da,
he whispered roughly.
Swordfish breathed heavily, eyes unblinking.
It was a relief to see that Swordfish had an appetite. It meant, despite his fever, his body healed well. Njord was no medicine man… but he did know that when a wolf stopped eating, drinking, or waking it was a sign of worse troubles to come.
They shared a quiet moment.
The father saw the far-away look of terror in his young son’s eyes.
The roughhewn shudder of his quiet voice.
The horror in his meager aura was almost tangible. The raw fear-scent of lasting trauma.
Njord swallowed. “Aye,” he answered with a breath, the contours of his face hardened with a troubled look. The father scooted a bit closer as if to better shield his son from the outside terrors – an innate instinct to protect.
“Tell me what happened, son,” Njord asks.
Njord drew closer, voice soft. Swordfish looked at his father without knowing what to say. There was understanding in the features of the scarred man. He gazed down at the resting boy as though he knew precisely what his son felt.
Trying to think back to the day it had happened was difficult. Swordfish didn’t remember many things. He remembered trudging through the snow until his legs felt stiff and awkward. He could remember thinking that he and Quennell were going to die out there, frozen together like two bloody ice pops. When he tried to think of the bear, how it had appeared, what they had done…
Swordfish’s features fell. They had been talking about girls. It had been a normal conversation, like every other day. Quen had a crush one some girl named Lyla, or the redtail thought that was her name.
We were just talkin’… and then it came up behind Quen like-
Swordfish’s silver-flecked eyes were fixed on distant darkness. I ain’t ever seen nothin’ like that, da. I never. And Que- He yelled somethin’ funny. Yelled Shardik just before it hit me.
Shardik! Run!
Swordfish could remember being flung through the air and knocked against stone, like a ragdoll. He remembered the fathomless darkness of those eyes.
The name was like icemelt in Njord’s veins. Suddenly the man wondered if, by telling Quennell that tale, he had created a self-fulfilling prophecy.
No, he thought. Or maybe just didn’t want to believe it.
Maybe it was the only thing that had saved the boys. Enough fear had been sowed in Quennell’s heart to rev his ‘flight’ response into fifth gear. If they had hesitated a second longer, both would have been turned to hamburger by the beast’s talons.
And it sounded like the bear had pursued them. The fear in Njord’s chest made his heart shrivel in response. Wolfkiller. It was still out there, somewhere…
A shadow casts itself across his face. The look of a father deep in thought.
“Ah ken it son,” he agreed. Njord knew that nothing, in Swordfish’ short life, could hold a candle to the monstrosity he had witnessed..
“T’was a tale I told Quennell. Shardik was tha name of a bear who attacked Sapphique before ye were born. Before I met yer mother, even.” The words came out slowly. Maybe it was an instinct to protect his brood from all things terrible. Even stories.
“He’s tha reason for tha graves on our cliffs. He took many lives that day. Tha pack managed tae fell ‘im an’ we never thought tha day would come when we’d see tha likes of that evil again.” Swordfish knew how close he had come to death and Njord knew it too.
He put a gentle paw on his son’s shoulder, but his grip was firm. A father who would never let go.
The boy shook his head in disbelief.
How…
How? That animal had swept Swordfish aside like swatting at a fly. It had not phased it. His body, the growth he had gone through, was nothing to that thing. Even if he had been braver, the young redtail did not think that his teeth or his mind could break such an animal. The voice it had roared in was stronger than Swordfish. The glint of its eyes had been more menacing than anything the boy had seen.
How can a wolf kill somethin’ like that?
Swordfish thought of Quennell and shifted, hoping to get a better look at his friend. He worried. He remembered the look of terror on the other boy’s face. There was no denying that the boys were lucky to have survived.
What had it done to his best friend, though?
Da, ya don’t think it’ll come here, do ya?
Do you mind if this is my last post? :)
“A pack cannae fell a bear without great sacrifice,” he told his son. The last time Njord had fought one… he had done so without abandon. Fang, tooth, claw! The seafarer bled the monster and received its blows until his’s pelt was red as his tail. But… back then he had no children. No wife. Only Sapphique to protect. If the bear came again, would he fight? Would Meerkat be widowed? Would their children be without a father once again?
Njord’s ears turned in thought and uncertainty, but he could see the trouble in Swordfish’s face. Though he did not wish to worry his son, there was a real possibility the bear would follow their bloodtrail… and hadn’t Njord already failed to prepare Swordfish once already?
“I dinnae ken, lad,” he admitted truthfully.
“But ye were far away upon Nova’s peak… tis unlikely that the creature would roam this far.” He tried to balance caution with reality.
“The rest of us are on tha lookout fer bearsign, so dinnae fash. Do yer best tae rest an’ recover, hmm?” Njord gave his son a small nudge of his maw for encouragement.