@Danica , @Njal, or @Malachi, perhaps? Is it alright to assume that Danica OK-ed Bazi being here? :)
It was the dawn of Bazi's second day in forests around Duskfire Glacier. It was overcast and chilly, but she had thoroughly groomed her coat in glacier run-off the previous night and it was doing a much better job of keeping her insulated. Summer had given her fur a yellowish tinge that had nothing to do with her fall and subsequent imprisonment, and she was glad to see the beginnings of winter white pushing through. Yellow was not fetching. Pee was yellow.
But she couldn't stay here. Could she? Guilt battled with the desire to see the Sveijarn family reunited - not that Bazi could do much in her current state, hobbling between the trees with a stern look of determination on her face. The broken hind leg could just about take her weight - in Bazi's mind, that meant she'd be fit to sprint by morning.
Njal was in such a sour mindset that even the sight of his good friend did not lift his spirits; he saw her struggling, and while a previous incarnation of the stern man would have swept in to aid her, he was resistant to such notions now. Not out of a sense of loathing towards the Alpha of Swiftcurrent, but because he felt no need to help anyone at this point. His wife was gone, his family shattered in to little pieces. The news was still fresh within the beast's mind; fresh enough to distract him from any desire to aid the young leader.
He was stuck in his own way. On one hand he did not want to leave Maera alone, not even for a moment, but on the other... Just looking at the sole surviving piece of his beloved family was heartbreaking. She looked so much like Tuwawi, it hurt. He paced outside of the den - finding it far too roomy now that it was just himself and his daughter - and finally broke away from the entrance when Bazi came hobbling along.
Roughly he called out to her, You should be resting. But the sound of his own voice was pitifully lacking in charm. No hello, no, how are you doing, just... Fatherly advice, sort of. These days it would be surprising for even the smallest smile to grace the gray man's features.
That's OK, I was away for 5 weeks or so, so Bazi has been at the bottom of a ravine. :D SC presumes her gone or dead.
"You should be resting."
Bazi's nearly snapped her neck turning to look for the wolf that matched the voice, aligning head and body by hopping on her good leg. "Njal," she breathed, hobbling toward him with a hopeful smile on her face. It faded into worry when she was close enough to see that his expression did not match her own, anchoring her to the ground well outside is personal space. ".. Tuwawi..?"
Gone. He responded, swift, as if removing a bandage as quickly as possible so that the pain can be dealt with just as swiftly. For a moment the man's gaze clouded even further. Missing, along with Jokull and Valtyr.And Larus he nearly appended, but... That wasn't on her. That was his own fault.
He swallowed his thoughts and hid his hurt deep, and all that was left was the hollow man that Njal had become. He regarded Bazi with cold observation, less like the man he used to be, and more like the glacier which had stolen so much from him. It was a mistake to leave the creek. He finally stated, before lapsing once more in to a lethargic silence.
Njal's face was stone. Grey, weathered stone, with two equally dead gems for eyes. Tuwawi was gone, leaving only Maera out of the four children that had frolicked in the fields of Swiftcurrent Creek.
"Njal.. no. You couldn't have known.." Bazi began, but it sounded.. meaningless. Had they stayed at the Creek, the family might not have experienced the tragedy they were now mired in. On the other hand, the Creek may just as well have split them in some other way - war with neighbours, insubordinate behaviour.. there were countless ways to destroy a good life.
"I can help you look after Maera," she offered lamely, shifting weight from one foreleg to the other. "I.. I had an accident, coming here. Swiftcurrent Creek probably thinks I'm dead, or a traitor. A half moon's turn won't make any difference." Her thoughts drifted to Scimitar, but didn't linger. It hurt to think what he must think of her.
There was nothing that could be said to alleviate the sorrow he felt. It was something that weighed on him unlike anything he had ever felt before, but most importantly, he was wallowing in it. Letting it seep in to his very bones. A penance, maybe, for his own errors; his constant roaming in the early days of their relationship, the choice to uproot their family, losing Larus... And other things. Little things. Everything.
I can help you look after Maera, Bazi abruptly offered. Njal had a mixed reaction, although very little of it was exposed to her. He felt an immediate defensive anger, fierce, protective, as if to ward away the very idea of Maera being taken from him; and then an easing of his mind, like it took a breath of its own and began to relax. She was only trying to help. The hurt was still so raw, though, that Njal couldn't even concoct a response.
I.. I had an accident, coming here. Swiftcurrent Creek probably thinks I'm dead, or a traitor. A half moon's turn won't make any difference.
Your leg. Njal finally rumbled, with a brief and trailing gaze across her uneven standing. She would need time to heal physically, and he would need time to heal in every other imaginable way - but most importantly, Maera needed someone with her, someone to protect and care for her. It wouldn't be permanent. I would be very grateful if you stayed. He looked to her now and plastered a smile upon his face, which probably only made him look worse, but he was trying. And I'm sure Maera would love to see you.
Bazi nodded. "Just for a little while," she added, as if reading Njal's mind, but her reasons for attaching a disclaimer had nothing to do with his admirably masked gut reaction to her offer. Bazi wanted to go home. She ached for home - even though the Duskfire landscape suited her better, and even though she did not know what kind of welcome (if any) awaited her at Swiftcurrent Creek. Uncertainty would cause her to leap between desperate yearning and fear over the next week.
Silence eased into the space between them. It felt awkward - not because they had fallen out or grown apart, necessarily; Njal had never been chatty - but because she could neither imagine nor ease the hurt that dwelt in him. "I will fish," she fumbled, glancing over the mountain's shoulder. "There's plenty, and Lecter told me once that white meat is better for healing." Between the lines, she was telling him that she would not become a burden to his pack. Bazi would be strong enough to go home before she was able to repay any offers of food in kind, and the thought of leaving after clearing out another pack's winter caches made her feel a little ill with pre-preemptive guilt. "Where's Maera now? I'll go find her."
I will fish, Bazi mentioned, and then went on to name a wolf that Njal had never met; he knew little of healing, and was too distracted to keep up with the conversation further. Just knowing that someone would be there with Maera - someone who he trusted and knew - was a minor ease. Where is Maera now? I'll go find her.
Resting, I think. But it is entirely possible she has roused and gone to play- But he caught himself falling in to the instantaneous habit of including the other children, those who were no longer present. It cut to the quick of him. There was a clear pause, both auditory in nature and physical, as he pulled back a step from the conversation. After a moment Njal recovered from his blunder, but his words were sharper due to the raw nature of his thoughts.
The den. I will lead you. Short, snappy sounds. Before Bazi could say anything else - and before Njal could fail in his conversation skills again - he was turning away from her and loping in to the dark of the forest. Bludgeoning a path for himself and his injured friend, although he did not slow down to wait for her.
The hyphen fell like a guillotine against the last 'y'. Bazi winced, shrinking back from the flash of agony that lit Njal's face like stone walls in a lightning storm. Before she could respond with something banal and pointless, he was off, cutting a path through the undergrowth that she followed with slow, careful steps.