Larksong Grotto I don't mind a little town or drinking my coffee cold

As soon as the islander sidled up besides the woman Njord felt in his gut that he had made a huge mistake. Every wolf he had encountered in Teekon, so far, had been the genial sort. Maybe stoic or cold… but never mean. Raleska was a nettled and prickly like an agitated porcupine – her naturally dark features enhanced by the yellow leer of her poisonous gaze. She turned sharply on him, hackles raised and Njord felt most unwelcome. Was she really the daughter of Rosalyn and Erzulie? This was who Kaertok was loyal to?

He began to steel himself against her, sensing a familiar contempt in her expression, but he desired to befriend her as a pack-mate. Njord decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he jumped too quickly to conclusions. This wasn’t Meares Island, after all.

You could go up that hill and see if anyone's watching, Raleska suggested. Njord turned to her, looking at the women like she had three heads, but couldn’t get a read. “Ya can’t be serious,” he said with a hushed chuckle, analyzing her expression. Njord wasn’t always the sharpest crayon in the box, but he wasn’t that obtuse – they were practically on top of Sagtannet’s territory already.