Swiftcurrent Creek Reflektor

She was pleased, and that in turn, pleased him. Njal basked in the winter sun alongside his wife and was finally content with life. They would assume these new names, form their own family, and be the root of the new tree that would grow from them; a legacy would be left behind, one that Njal could be proud of. Something his parents never would have thought for him. No doubt, they would be proud too - although, at the thought of them, Njal grew a little quiet. It had not occurred to the man that their children would never know their grandparents. The wolves of the ice and snow that lived so far north (and actually, on another continent altogether, which he wasn't aware). But for now, Njal focused upon Tuwawi. She tugged at his ear and he responded by reaching to nibble at her cheek, his brief touching leading down her neck and in to the crook of her shoulder.

Indeed, there was work to be done. But not yet.

"Let us rest here for a while longer," He cooed, in his usual rolling rumble of a voice. He was too content to work. After a nap, perhaps. Or more play. But he was only jesting - and leaned upon her nimble body with his own thick-set one, coyly crushing her as he rolled over. Like a lethargic old lion, Njal stretched his front limbs out and gave a great (and silent) roar; yawning wide, as if Tuwawi wasn't there at all. "I could sleep here all day - I have a glorious pillow!"