Njal's body manoeuvred the plains with ease, even as they became rocky and covered in hills. The terrain was never a problem for him - he was built like a mountain wolf, born as a mountain wolf, and yet he had survived upon the plains with ease. He was a versatile beast, like his kin.

The man didn't know why he was here, really. He should have been back by the river, in his new home. Thoughts still plagued him though, and they prompted his desertion of his post for the time being; something that made his ears burn and heart heavy. Njal did not wish to be punished for this decision, as he was planning to return - but something begged him to move, to stumble about on this sunny winter day.

He came upon the mountainside and the man's progress slowed. There was a wariness about his movement, a certain level of caution. Njal wondered just what he would find here, in this place. What was he looking for? At this moment, the man wasn't sure. He just knew there was something here and he needed it, badly. A distraction from his thoughts, perhaps, or the resurrection of old memories.

The huff signalled to him that he was not alone, and this fact made the man's fur bristle slightly; he lifted his head and looked around, but was not fortunate enough to spy the woman who was basking. So he took a few more careful steps, dislodging small stones which tumbled beyond his view. When Njal's grizzled body emerged over the ledge, he caught her silhouette - burning bright due to the sun - and he instinctively stood at attention. It was by complete happen-stance that his wandering had brought him to her. It took a moment of scrutiny for the Russian to recognize the stranger - but when he did, his posture faltered in a subtle display of nerves. He was not on the plains and so he had no leeway here; she, no doubt, would recognize him as the fool who pestered her away from the lake.

He grunted in her direction and began to creep down the mountainside, as he was not too far from her already. With a level of ease, Njal found spots for his wide paws and descended until he was looming nearby. The man did not want to provoke her. This was her realm and he was now the invader, which was a thought that remained quite strong within his mind, as he carefully watched her.

This was awkward.

If he had been anywhere else, anywhere near his home at the creek - than maybe Njal would have been confident, as he perused the rocks and spotted the golden woman. Not now, though. Not here. This was no his land and that made him the trespasser, the vagrant worthy of prodding and annoyance.

The woman cleared her throat softly, but as that was the only sound aside from a few tumbling stones, it carried eagerly across the mountainside; she watched him, and he, looking sheepish and out of place, lowered his head in an apologetic expression of submission. Still, Njal's tail would not placate her; it remained coyly raised as a remark towards his pack-bound situation. Njal was, after all, the Delta of Swiftcurrent.

He watched her for a moment longer, lingering for a reason he could not pinpoint within himself. And then, trying his best not to rain stones down upon her resting place, he began to slink away. The man's body was built for the mountains, but his lifestyle along the plains had ruined whatever natural prowess he may have had; leading his steps to be crooked, clumsy things. He managed to forge a path around her - but only part ways, before a stumble made him slide a few feet too close. The dust rose around him in that instant, and Njal scrambled for purchase among the boulders and dried grass.

The man came to a lurching stop in the soil, while still there were stones that made melodious tapping along the mountainside. Fumes of dust rolled around him, adding a warm tone to the grey of his pelt; tarnishing the silver strands with a soft chalk. He huffed and tried to adjust himself, eager to remove himself from the woman's presence before he was reprimanded or further embarrassed. For this was embarrassing. Njal had grown up on a mountain of ice and he had thought, obviously with a mind full of hostile arrogance, that it would be no different here. But the dirt was slippery. The rocks eager to run from beneath his steps. At least with ice his claws could sink and hold him; here, the soil parted and he was made a fool of.

“Do you need assistance?” The woman pointedly asked, and Njal turned a dull eye upon her sincerity, finding it suspicious. He expected something more. Laughter, perhaps, or the prodding of more volatile comments at his expense. Yet there was nothing - there was a genuine moment of care passing between them, which caught him more off-guard than his stumbling paws. "No," He gruffly crooned, while his stocky limbs tried to balance his heavy body along the ledge. He took a few defiant steps as if to prove a point, and once again began to slide; the shale of the mountain drifting out from under him, and clicking like laughter against their shapely neighbours.

Njal grunted with frustration and lowered himself, deciding to just have a nap or something. Keeping low would make him safer. He wouldn't fall, or so he believed. He watched his own paws as he carefully set down, like a robin carefully covering it's precious eggs; and then when he was rooted to the spot, he looked upon the woman with a smug expression. See, I'm fine, his look boasted. He refused her help, the same way she had refused his offer to teach her proper fighting techniques - they were both pig-headed, apparently.

Njal considered himself to be a helpful and kind individual. He had always been that way - even when he was stranded from his home, in a place that did not feel, smell, or even sound like the Russian mountain from whence he came. Yet time had taken it's toll on his spirit; he was far more reserved now, withdrawn, and moody. Perhaps it was age that had ruined him. He was resistant to the help of this stranger despite her obvious lack of flaws; she had not even trespassed upon their initial encounter, but his zeal had been too much to bare. Njal was not as kind as he perceived himself to be. He was being a bratty old man, and it took time for the idiot to see it. When the woman canted her muzzle towards the smooth surface of a natural path, Njal almost ignored her. He turned his muzzle away as if the motion was unseen -

and then, slowly, he began to creep towards it.

It was easy enough to reach, and the stability afforded by the path was enough to allow him to stand straight. He looked around the area swiftly, perhaps for rocks which could serve as obstacles to trip upon, and was satisfied when he found little in the way of irritants. His gaze locked upon the golden woman then, and he gave a small nod of thanks - a bitter movement, which may have been received poorly judging by how lethargic an effort was put forth. Njal allowed himself to stoop his head a little lower upon reconsideration - and he even curled his tail down against the path, where it remained. She clearly knew what she was doing on the mountain, and even if he did not agree with the submission, it would keep him from falling to his potential ruin.

His ears flicked forward, cupping the silence that spread between them now that the rocks had stopped tumbling. Maybe it was her help that prompted a sort of truce to be offered, or maybe he was simply repaying the debt that her lesson had created between them. But Njal spoke up, suddenly. His voice thick with an accent of a faraway land, and crackling with dusty disuse. "Have you reconsidered my offer?" He called to her, while canting his head in a display of curiosity. If she could teach him to move on the mountain, he could teach her to fight upon it - and they would both grow stronger.

The woman's words were eloquent, which was something of an abnormality for lone wolves. Many of them were more bestial - or so he had encountered - and some didn't speak at all, with more emphasis on their body language. But the way in which the woman spoke did not catch him up too much, not like the words she used; specifically, when she lanced at him over the word insult. Her intention had probably not been to get prickly, but Njal felt a twinge of guilt stab at him when she spoke the word; he had not intended to insult her, but herd her away from lands that were unkind to strange entities. Of course, he was still in the dark about which lands truly belonged to Lethe and her ilk - Njal was under the assumption that his job had been done, and it had been done well.

His brow furrowed for a brief moment, but relented as he relaxed and watched her. The old version of him may have apologized, but not this one. Njal would not recant his behaviour; he was staunchly opposed to the very idea.

"I was enthusiastic," He commented next, with a small glance across the distant horizon. His voice lulled in it's strength the way a child might avoid a certain topic of conversation; he glossed over her comments and moved on.

"You move well on the mountain." Njal commended, with a brightness to his voice which hadn't been there a moment ago. It was true, though. The woman knew how to move in this strange place, and he felt he could improve her abilities if she truly wished it. "If you return to the creek lands, I could teach you. At least, to move on the plains."

But what were the chances of that, with the girl so firmly rooted to the world of the mountain? Not to mention his eagerness to drive her away the last time. His ears flattened upon his head at this thought, a brief hesitation, before standing to attention again.

“Less teaching and more practice on a fool,”

His ear twitched at this, hearing the accusation and allowing his brow to furrow once again. Njal even felt tempted to step along the path towards her, but he stopped himself before getting too close. She was no fool, what made her think so lowly of herself? Further comments only made the Russian further confused. He had known plenty of strong, capable women. From his old leader's wife, Skydancer, to the territorial and bestial woman, Siku of Tartok; they had met briefly, but in this moment Njal was able to reflect upon his past encounters. And then there was the indomitable Proudheart, who made his own heart heavy like stone. Something he needed to ignore - so he sought the golden woman as a distraction, and burst forth with his own verbose response.

"I have known many women, and you are no different. You are strong. Capable. Only a little slow." The man's shoulder rolled in a small shrug at this, not wanting to insult but not afraid to voice his concern over her burdensome movement upon the plains. However, if she wasn't interested in learning, he would not cajole her. "I see a strong warrior in you. Training is needed, of course, training is always needed. But I offer." A small nod of his head, and Njal fell silent. His voice fell away amongst the stones and he began to plot a course along the path. He was careful with his steps, regardless of how safe and secure the ridge may have been - keeping his eyes upon the woman while he moved by her, and then a bit beyond. When he turned again to regard her, it was to offer one last suggestion.

"If you change your mind, come to the river pack and ask for Njal."

He blinked, and then turned as if to leave, but waited in place for any response from the mountain woman.

Xi'nuata held a view of herself that would have confused Njal beyond measure, had he been privy to her thoughts. To live in a world where women were essentially cattle, to be kept as prizes or bred for future sons, was appalling. He knew better; or he would have said so, given the chance. The crease of her face showed reluctance to his offer, and that brought the guilt within his heart to a flourishing burn once again. He should not have been so hard upon her - there were other methods that could have been utilized. But the man could not dwell upon it now; what was done, was done. Njal gave a small nod to her before turning, and promptly picking up his pace. His steps were more assured as he followed the curling path, faltering only a few times when his toes caught upon awkwardly placed stones or debris; but he stayed upright, and before long, vanished from her sight.