Dragoncrest Cliffs and if she refuses gifts,

Njord was perched upon a cliff’s edge, watching the sunset, when Erzulie called. A meeting! The islander sprung to his feet and raced off to the heart of the territory where Rusalka gathered. The wives sat together upon a deck of stone, two men seated adjacent to the leaders. One was familiar: Kaertok. The other could have been the Tartok’s twin – large, broad, and mature-looking, but his face was scalped on the right size. The flesh was puckered and twisted from a burn (an affliction Njord had never seen) and it made the Sveijarn do a double take.

Njord remembered how Kaertok postured and displayed his self-worth in his stance when they had last met. It made the boy straighten up and remember that he wasn’t the little brother of Meares Island any longer. He approached the newcomer, Rosencrantz, with a new (and somewhat awkward) assuredness. He took scent and wagged his fox red tail in welcome, unaware that this man had history with Rusalka. Njord then turned and took a seat away from the two men on the opposite side, as if to fill in the space. He waited for the others to arrive.