How are we still breathing - Printable Version

Sad days haunted the Glacier. It had all happened to quickly, and sadly, it was the little Maera who had suffered it all alone. It all started with the kidnapping of her golden brother and his father leaving after him, and then, Tuwawi too left without notice. At this point, Maera was devastated, left alone by both her parents, and suffering the loss of her own brother, but as if that wasn't enough, the rest of the litter disappeared too, leaving the little fire princess with no family.

But they said he was back. Tuwawi's mate had returned from the dead just a couple days ago, and he was lurking around the forests. Arabella didn't know the man personally, but she had seen him a couple times around before his disappearance. A tall and broad man with ashen pelt, an imposing figure without a doubt. He looked a lot like her own father.

The last time she checked on Maera had been two days ago. She knew her father was back and she knew they needed space. This kind of reunions were too personal, and Arabella knew when she wasn't required. But today, Bella was itching to see her. She knew she was alright, her father was with her after all, but she needed to see with her eyes that the girl was better. Slowly but eagerly, Arabella walked to wards the Sveijarn den, hoping to encounter the fire babe.

Thoughts of the Duskfire wolves were far from his mind. The only one of them that mattered now was Maera, while the goings-on of the world around the tiny family were quickly forgotten. What they did was of no importance to Njal now unless one of Malachi's decisions adversely affected his daughter - and so far, everything had been quiet.

Njal was still on edge though. When not having his gashed ribs tended to by one of the fleeting faces of the pack, he was with his daughter. They spent far more time together than ever before while Njal tried to make up for his failures: sleeping in the den instead of outside of it, as was his usual routine; spending the morning trying to find little gifts for the girl such as bundles of flowers or new toys, which grew harder to find as the days grew colder; he was never absent from Maera's proximity.

This morning was no different. It was a fair day, and the land was stiff and cold from a brief rain that fell during the night. Njal was returning to the den just moments after spotting the woman advance upon it herself; in his jaws he held a limp hare, but this was deposited with a toss of his muzzle, and flopped against the ice-dusted ground.

Maera is sleeping. Njal commented carefully, lowering his voice so that the rumble of it did not carry too far. He licked the warmth from his lips from where the hare had been just moments before, and carefully sat down next to the mouth of the den. The movement strained his wound, but he did not appear to notice. You must be Arabella. She talks about you a lot.

He wasn't sure how to feel about that, and settled on feeling nothing.