Redhawk Caldera Fly-by-nights from Riverside

She sure was chatty. He wondered when that had happened, but didn't voice the thought. Remembering when they had initially encountered one another and how bold she had been, even then, it should not have surprised him that Wildfire had become such an adventurer. He was, maybe, a little bitter because of it; his own children would be a little older than her now, and he'd like to think they'd be similar, were they alive. Evidently, everything reminded Njal of all his sorrows, all the time. Maybe his broken body wasn't all that needed fixing.

While she prattled on, Njal watched the sky. He watched the clouds drift, and gradually they gave him a proper view of the milky way; it did look like spilled milk, sort of. It was still a stupid name.

"So, what's winter like?" Wildfire's voice popped in to his head again, and Njal realized she had actually stopped to breathe at some point. 

"Cold. Difficult." His answers were clipped at first, but upon realizing how gruff he was being (and for no good reason beside, 'I feel like crap'), he tried to elucidate. "Most of the trees lose their leaves, if its cold enough the rain turns in to ice instead, and it piles up as snow. It is very dangerous." He flashed her a brief look as he said this, as if to size her up. "It is good that we live in the south though, it shouldn't be too bad. Up north..." everything dies.. "It's a lot harder."