Swiftcurrent Creek To Hold and Ocean

His words spooked her, but the man could not know that. Njal drifted. There was nothing tying him down now as his brain throbbed, inflamed by the blow it had recieved. If he made it through the night without falling in to an endless sleep, it would be a miracle unto itself. If only he could see himself now! The great mountain, decimated. The proud warrior curled up like a pitiful infant in a hole. But Tuwawi was here, so he was not alone at the very least. She calmed him with her words even when they mixed and mingled in his ears, to become a mess of soft sounds. He murmured softly - perhaps parroting something she had said, but unable to enunciate. The cold seeped in to his face, his head, it seemed to soak in to every part of him.

The woman licked at his face and he felt nothing. A slick sensation, a tugging at the skin, which made him react instinctively; he flinched and scowled with half a face, while the ice numbed the rest. The moonlight outside once again grew intense - blowing in with a great gust, and bringing with it a spectre that Njal could see through one blurry eye. It was low-slung and pale like the snow, and for a moment he was lucid enough to recognize that it had legs, a face, eyes as blue as the ocean Tuwawi had described - but the moment passed too quickly. He was once again rolling in his own sea of troubles. Murmuring sad sounds while his teeth began to chatter.