Swiftcurrent Creek You don't know how lucky you are

He held her close for what seemed like hours, but in reality it was only a few minutes. Her musk permeated the air around them, and hidden it it's depths was an odd new note: something that the females of the pack could readily identify, but he could only guess at. For a moment Njal did not want to move, to say anything, to disturb her or their proximity; however, the man grew restless quickly. The lingering guilt he felt for not aiding in the defense of the pack had manifested itself gradually, and now sat within his heavy heart as a subtle paranoia.

He drew away from his wife. A dark look took hold of the warden's features as he did so, but he was still close. Using his shoulder to guide her, Njal began to herd his wife away from the scene of the crime - unwilling to admit his apprehension aloud. The fear that the Tortuga wolves might still be lurking in the dark, waiting to snatch someone. He would not allow Tuwawi to be taken from him. The very thought spoiled within his mind.

'It is not safe here,' he wanted to caution her, 'You cannot be here,' he willed himself not to say.

"I will find her." Njal finally managed. He had not been there for her abduction, but he could be there for her return. The darkness lifted from him then, fading from the filigree of his eyes. He looked to Tuwawi and pressed himself close once more, eager to burrow in to the red of her pelt - and finding a strangeness about her. The size of the woman was increasing but he had not been so wholly aware of it until now. Njal lipped at the spiked fur of her collar and let out a quiet rumble. A dreary hum that crept through the dark.