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

Like a stubborn fish, Raleska didn’t even nibble at Njord’s jest. Her stony expression looked down on him with contempt until she turned with a swift pivot and flat words. Damn, what a frigid bitch. Njord thought to himself as he watched the inky woman tip-toe up to the top of the rise. She was on alert, but the islander did take notice that she paid him no more heed. His lips pinched, soured by her acidic personality. What he thought would be a fun adventure turned into a chore.

Njord rolled his shoulders, trying to hang onto what little hope he had for this mission. He would have balked if he knew Raleska appraised him as a gutless wet blanket. “Alright, alright,” the islander grumbled to himself as he slinked up the hill, feeling a knot in his belly as he pointedly disobeyed Rosalyn’s instructions.

He could feel adrenaline thrum in his veins. They were very exposed in this particular patch. Any small movement made his blue eyes flick across the landscape, waiting for Sagtannet’s patrols to spot them from their higher position on Nova peak. He moved to Raleska’s haunch, voice low as he questioned her tactics. “Raleska, we’re jus’ waitin’ ta be broadsided. Shouldn’t we move deeper inside tha grotto?” he asked. But maybe it would have been better if he just shut up and follow the Eyjolfur’s lead.