Swiftcurrent Creek To Hold and Ocean

Jumping ahead to morning!

A songbird whistled out a long note, welcoming the sun. A ways away, a similar creature played a note as well; and it went on like this for a few minutes, as Njal lay wearily upon the den floor. It had been a hard night. A cold night. And though he had come close to drifting in to sleep, Tuwawi roused him often enough. In the last few hours before the sun rose he did indeed fall asleep - drifting past his pain and in to the warmth of her fire, for she nestled beside him and draped her warmth around him eagerly. The bird, though. The sound of its sing-song voice roused him and he startled. The ice block previously used as a pillow was miniscule; having broken and melted in to the earth through the night. It left a slurry of chilled mud beneath his cheek that, when applied by his nodding, brought Njal to full consciousness again.

He lifted his head too quickly. The skin of his cleaned and dried face cracked and split, leaking a mixture of clear and red fluids; it stung just as much as it had in the night, although Njal's mind was clearer now. The man had not had time to dream; however, he somehow recalled a set of bright eyes watching him, and cast a nervous glance towards the den opening. Pale beams of light lingered there. His motions caused Tuwawi to shift and, with the swelling of his wounded face still preventing him from opening both eyes at once, he peered at her with a single golden iris; tired, but pleased to see her. He did not think to wake her drowsing self, as guilt welled in his chest. She had watched over him through the long night and deserved her rest.