Spring must have been farther away than anyone realized, for when the wind licked at the den mouth that morning, it was chilled. Perhaps it was the absence of the woman that made things seem more frigid. Without her there beside him, Njal felt the lethargic winter as it tried to creep back in to his bones.

Outside, the trees creaked and moaned. They held their own apprehension about the weather, or so it seemed. Dragging their arms against one another in a tired embrace, their branches finger-like as they grappled with their neighbours; some squealing in delight with every subtle shift of the wind. Inside the earth the man lay in wait for Tuwawi's return; but she was gone for a long time. His sense of time was warped by the throbbing in his head - and to make up for it, Njal tried to count things.

He tried to time how often the trees called out, initially. The randomness of the sounds helped to tick the time away, but still, no Tuwawi. Next were the howling winds as they picked up and tried to blow the clouds awry, blowing across the den mouth as if it were some sort of instrument; alas, that was too chilling for the man to keep his focus. When a gust did arrive it would slink in to the den and tug at his skin, numb it, and then escape once more.

Njal shifted every few hours. Then every few minutes, growing antsy and eager for his mate's arrival back home. Eventually he faced his fear of the world outside and staggered out of the den. Slinking through the dirt, squinting at the pale light of the day, and then slumping to his rear. At first there was only light and Njal winced with his head quickly ducking; it had only been a couple of days since the cougar attack (or so he thought, but such an assumption could have been wrong) and his eyes had grown accustomed to the dark. He was determined to find Tuwawi though - and so he stood and began to prowl.

Every sound that Njal had previously been counting, became a small threat. The trees cackled and screeched around him and each new wail made him turn sharply, or pivot his ears. He moved in an irregular pattern away from the den and towards Tuwawi's lingering scent, far slower than his usual pace, as a strange apprehension made him nervous and slow. It was strange, but Njal did not know that anything was wrong with himself; truly, he thought the world around him had gone a little mad. It had all started with that damn cougar.

The scent of pine was pervasive now. It staunchly opposed the airy chill that drifted around him; almost physical in the manner which it enrobed his figure. Njal paced awkwardly. His nose was burrowed in to the bare soil at his paws and he breathed deep inhalations of the soil - searching for Tuwawi and finding nothing. He snorted as he lifted his head clear of the dirt and the action sent loose debris flying from him. In the next moment Njal was picking up his pace and twisting, doubling back over the trail he had created; thinking perhaps he had just missed her. By doing this he was in actuality becoming more lost; thrusting himself in through a grove of sparse trees and rounding his platinum body along one ragged trunk. The man belched a dissatisfied call, barking in to the morning light (not realizing how much time had passed between his exit from the den and beyond).

Almost as a response, a voice rose around him. It sounded like it came from the trees themselves. "why did you leave the den?" It was clear but disembodied. Familiar enough to make him snap his head around and pivot. Tuwawi drifted by him like a ghost, pressing herself against his fur without a response from him. Njal remained sullen and quiet, feeling a heated anger course through his system. It was thick and dark like old blood, slipping along beneath the sinew of his flesh and collecting in his head, where it throbbed and began to pound like a drum. The man lifted his lips as he spied the trees. He marched around them with stiff legs and a raised spine, intent on finding the owner of the voice. As if to taunt, it came again. "We should go home,"

Snap. A twig or a branch from above. Maybe something internal that only he could sense - and Njal was back to himself. The woman was a signal fire and he, lost in the sea. "Tuwawi," He muttered with a subtle surprise. His wife's name eased from his lips while she slid her tongue across his jaw, and in return the man pressed his cheek to her's. There was a small amount of confusion festering within him now, and had he the ability, he would have been flushed and pink-cheeked by it. "I couldn't find you." Njal responded a moment later, as if that was all the information she needed. It was all he could give at this point. The feeling of anger and hostility had slipped away with her touch, as did the memory of his wandering. All he knew now was that they were together - in a strange place, but together.

Tuwawi rattled off a series of statements that made little sense to Njal; something about food, about plundering a cache, being lost, not finding someone. It mattered little to him in those first few moments. But he came back to himself. He held her close, comforted by the familiarity that she possessed; he was about to speak when his stomach roared, and gave away true sentiment. Yes, perhaps that was why he had wandered. The caches around their den had been depleted and it was his duty to replenish them. Her question about his head went by without a single trace of recognition - and the beastly man, this thing which stood where Njal should have been, blinked blankly at the red woman. "I am hungry, let us hunt." For is that not what wolves did? Chase prey, corral it, take it down?

He stepped away from her then. Uncoiling briskly from her. Staggering. The man swallowed what felt like a stone in his throat, and tasted dryness; followed swiftly by a heat that spread across his forehead. It felt like tired muscle, like a yawn being held within the lungs, a pressure but not a grand one. Enough to make him pause and reconsider, to adjust his steps and fall towards Tuwawi for support. He rested his head upon her shoulders - across them - and in that way, breathed her in. "There are small things in the trees," he rumbled cryptically. Ears flicked to the sides at first, then back, then forward; unable to contend with the feeling of being watched as it grew inside of him. But he remained close to Tuwawi, affording her warmth with his body, while his mind travelled. "Rabbits and the like, near the river. Why would you go to the marsh?" The man asked with a pointed scoff, sounding incredulous and sharp in his disdain. "You could freeze out there. Then I'd be alone."