Firefly Glen you're familiar like my mirror years ago

Thoughts criss-crossed through his mind. Images of the boy, of himself as a boy, of his siblings, of the glacier. The occasional pang of cold, of wet, inturrupted all those thoughts. He trundled along and then, when he heard something shift in the grass, he stopped. The crown of a face shifted above the dried grass, or what was left of it. He grunted softly, more of a hmm than anything, and settled in to a moment of silent observation. It wasn't until he was a few feet closer that he realized who this was — and upon understanding that, Njal's pale eyes widened in surprise.

He looked away briefly to gather his thoughts and, perhaps more than a little, compose himself. As he peered upon the boy again, there was something.. different about him. Something controlled. You again, he rumbled, or rather wheezed, as he settled back upon his haunches. Must be quite the hunter if you're still here. What with all the famine and... Stuff. Smooth, Njal. He has no idea how to speak to his own son — but then, he hadn't had much practice.