She had come back. It had been twenty-four hours.. No, twenty-six, but he only counted the minutes in order to distance himself. Enough time to rest and recuperate, at least in Njal's harrowed mind. She should be visiting the den soon - perhaps she already was, checking on the tiny flame that lingered there. But Njal was not there with her - he had left Maera with one of her sitters and departed before he could catch sight of Tuwawi - ah, the name, it pained his heart to think it.
Njal had wandered off again, and at first he lingered at the tiny creek beside the weeping willow; the same spot he had encountered the pale wanderer. He watched the water flow and tried to drown his sorrows and his frustrations in it; he stepped in to the chill and let the water soak in to his limbs, numbing them, in the hopes that the water would take his hurt with it. As he pulled himself on to the bank beneath the shelter of the willow tree, Njal only felt... Cold. His anger, once heated, was now as frigid as the glacier.