Sleep refused to root itself within his mind, so Njal took to scouring the surrounding area while the two shadows slumbered. He was careful - never straying too far from the pair, nor too close to the glacier-land's edge. The trio would remain secret for a few more days, or maybe even weeks. It all depended on himself, really. Njal was still unsure about embarking upon the path towards his family.

Loitering beneath a stand of pines, Njal's attention was focused upon a mound of nearby snow. He had detected the scent of rodent there earlier in the evening, and had been inspecting the surrounding area with some care; however, Tonravik's abrupt flailing and snarling caused an immediate redirection. In the next moment Njal was striding quickly to the dark patches upon the snow - Echelon's slumbering body and Tonravik's far more coherent one. She seemed repentant as soon as awareness hit her; but the silver man would not dismiss her behavior so readily.

With an inquiring rumble in his throat, Njal strode closer and dipped his head - nosing at her shoulder as an act of reassurance. Evidently, living away from Duskfire with a woman of Tartok had tied his tongue. She was uninjured, interested only in the distant hills. You dream. He muttered, soft so as not to awaken Echelon (as if speaking over a sleeping babe), but also somewhat surprised — it seemed strange to think that Tonravik, or any other child of Siku the realist, would have such an affliction.

Clearly she was ignorant, and Njal should have expected that. Dreams were fantastic things, ethereal, not physical. The wolves of Tartok were the complete opposite, and there was no place for such fanciful notions in their more savage world. Her utterance was met with a small smile, but Njal did not expand upon the topic - choosing instead to usher her further from Echelon, so that the girl could continue with her rest. They would all be busy in the coming days.

When the pair of them had wandered far enough out of the slumbering shadow's earshot, Njal finally spoke.

Sometimes when asleep, it is possible to experience waking sensations within the mind. And, sometimes, these sensations can be remembered. It was a vague explanation but the best that he could do. Njal was similar to the Tartok wolves to some degree; his family had originally been religious, but not utterly superstitious. Dreams had a limited significance to them. And the wolves of Kindred in the Seahawk Valley had not been too interested either. I once thought that I was chasing fire in the sky, running with my children across the ice. When I woke, the details slipped away, but the warmth I felt remained.

That dream had been one of the catalysts leading to the union of himself and his wife, of their assumed name - Sveijarn - but, it was also one of the roots of his fears. The fire he chased had eventually enveloped the sky entirely, and Njal had woken in a feverish state; these things he did not share, as they were less important to the concept.

Silence wasn't so bad. Njal had grown accustomed to it in the far north, and the sensation had not ended when he met up with Tonravik; she was a quiet creature, like many within Tartok, and so the ensuing silence was not as unsettling as it could have been. Even after his explanation found its place upon the wind, Tonravik was silent. Thoughtful, perhaps. And then, when Njal expected the quiet to only deepen as they lurched together through the snow, she made an astute observation - Your heart. - it was rather surprising.

Had he somehow known that calamity would follow them? Were the beliefs in the gods really a tangible thing? If the gods existed, watching over all of creation as he was taught in his youth, then were they watching now? It was strange to think of some otherworldly entity keeping tabs on him and his kin - stranger still to think, somehow, that his dream had been somewhat prophetic. But his sons were gone. His daughter missing. The fire he had witnessed in the sky was not so grand in his dream, but volatile. He had been afraid of it, whereas now the sky was lit with a myriad of colors to signify the early rise of the sun; it was not the blood red sky in his distant dream.

If you must go, Tonravik calmly began, in time to cut off Njal's thoughts; he focused upon her instead, watching the point in the snow where her paws sank in. Do not do so without a word. And as she looked away, the silver man lifted his eyes to study her. She seemed distracted by something - and that was when he remembered their violent meeting. No doubt the dreams she had - if they existed at all - pertained to the deaths of her comrades. Her kin. But as she gave her thanks, he saw no remorse, heard no sadness there.

We should go to the glacier soon. He remarked quietly, his eyes tracing a route from Tonravik's features and away - in the direction of the mountain's peak. There was plenty of time for him to reconsider such a move, but the trio were already so close. He knew he had to do it, and whatever fears he had of such a return - of his reuniting with Tuwawi - were distant thoughts. In the morning, perhaps. In the light, so that we are not mistaken for enemies. As he said this, Njal turned his eyes upon Tonravik, specifically seeking her dark eyes as if to cement their agreement, wordlessly.

He doubted, still, despite all his time away to think and all the conversations to the contrary, Njal doubted that things would work out. But he knew he had to try, and he would try his hardest to convince Tuwawi of his love for her. Maybe she would not receive him with kindness. Maybe she would be too hurt by his betrayal and his failure to harbor any feelings for him at all. If they approached Duskfire and were met with indifference, he would know. And if they were walking in to a battle, then... Things would play out as they played out. Njal did not want to fight Tuwawi, or anyone else in the pack for that matter.

Her question hung in the air for a few minutes too long, becoming stale, but Njal gradually did answer.

I will find my heart, my fire, and confront her. The only way to get the glacier back is to get her back. And this was the truth. Njal was not interested in the glacier itself, but the wolves who lived within its wild haven. Tuwawi, Maera, any others loyal to the Sveijarn name — they were his kin and he would do anything to reunite with them, to prove his loyalty and love to them. As an after-thought his voice rumbled, It may take time, but our arrangement is still valid. All I want is my family back. Of course, things were never so easy.

Then I will let her. He responded flatly, and without pause. If Tuwawi didn't react in such a way when seeing him, then she wasn't the Tuwawi he knew; she was an inferno, and would engulf anything in her path. The power within her was one of the aspects which drew him in, which made him want to return. She was passionate, and he needed that passion. A fire only burns as long as there is fuel to do so.

If she struck him down, if she loosed her anger upon him as he was expecting, then all he needed to do was wait it out. To let her grieve and hurt and feel all of those things which he himself had felt; to loose it all upon him, until the fire in her heart was lessened to embers. Then they could rebuild. Njal looked to Tonravik after a moment of silence, reflecting upon his own statement, but then began to march - returning to where Echelon lay. He watched her for a few moments, idle, and let out a wide yawn of his own.

Morning would come. And in the morning, they would be on their way home.