Bramblepoint godless and free

It had been years since Njal had heard anyone speak the mother tongue; the last time he had heard it spoken must have been by his own family, and that was at least five years ago. It invigorated him. Reminded him of things long ago forgotten. But the stranger before him was no northern beast; he looked rangy, ragged, and held the many tones of the earth and autumn in his pelt. A summer wolf from the lowlands? But how would anyone like this reach the Teekon?

Njal snapped out of his thoughts when the stranger - slipping back to broken common - mentioned Peregrine. Or that's who he assumed the stranger was talking about. Which meant that... They had an audience. Njal was about to bare his fangs and bristle, displeased by the thought of having someone like this so close to the caldera -- but the caldera was no longer his home. He need not be so defensive over it.

"Yeah --" he began to affirm, but then the autumn wolf mentioned something about sex, and Njal was thrown off. "What? No -" he sniffed the air too, and noticed the very faint scent that was distinctly female. With a snort, the old man rose up and took a few steps around the wiry loner, studying the air. "Not a friend of yours?" He queried, glancing with his periphery at the rogue. Of course not. He doubted any real lady would be caught dead near this wretched thing.