Swiftcurrent Creek but dreams come slow

As the last note of her howl faded into the airwaves of the open wetlands, her gaze sought the wolverine once more. It was nothing but a spectre, a soul taken from Sos' Underworld and fashioned into the likeness of a warrior's animal... But nevertheless, it both lent her strength and enraged her. The wolverine was faster than her, and fiercer; no doubt it symbolized all her potential, but Jinx never reached it.

Just as she had fallen short of Koios, and what she could have been with his guidance. Just as she had fallen short of Nanuq, and been a lesser leader, incapable of taking the title of Warchief alone.

So wrapped up in her thoughts, and in staring down the wolverine whose very presence challenged her, was she that she failed to notice Njal until he was upon her. The gritty grunt of acknowledgement pulled her out of her reverie, and for a moment she forgot why she had summoned anyone. His was a figure she was familiar with: he reminded her of Nauja and Nanuq. Of Siku. There was nothing elegent nor sleek about him; in all ways, he was square. It was easy for Jinx to assume he was a battering ram in combat, with slow but heavy hits. The misjudgement was as much due to her youth and naivety as it was to her presumptuousness.

At length, she remembered why he was here; she blinked once to signal recognition of his intent. Without sharing any words (unbeknownst to her, this was a common theme in Njal's interactions), she began. Jinx spurred her legs into quick motion, seeking to come at him from his side and strike quick as a viper before dancing out of reach again. This underestimation of his speed—and assumption that he would be slow on his feet—could cost her the match. She was unaware of this reality as she sped at him with jaws wide, aiming not to maim or hurt, but to grip, harmless yet firm.