Seaside Moors Once, you know, you were my friend.

sleep has eludes him in all but starts and fits — small naps taken out of necessity. he is vigil and alert, both on the borders and within them. he has upset the balance of rusalka with his victory; he is a usurper captain aboard the pirate ship and he doesn’t dare close both his eyes or turn his back. not while his position rankles them. still, he patrols and he hunts and he fills caches; because the routine is possibly the only thing keeping him from descending in the bowels of paranoid hell. it’s on one sweep that raleska’s voice rises for him.

their last conversation …if one could call it that …is not so easily forgotten by the tundrian who makes quick work of the distance with each long, purposeful stride.

he wonders if she is going to yell at him some more. or perhaps she’s going challenge him. polar gaze settles upon her as she comes into his view. you called? either way, he suspects it won’t take long for him to find out the nature of her summons.