Dragoncrest Cliffs prophet margin

Had Njord heard wrong? This girl didn’t seem to have a clue what he was talking about and she insisted she didn’t even know where she was. With a sharp shake the snow fell from his pelt onto the floor, which he kicked back with a swipe of his paw. “At’s bettah,” he sighed. When her voice cut out (as a memory interrupted her train of thought), Njord interjected.

“Aren’t you Kaertok’s girl?” he asked with a rise of his brow. “Yer in Sapphique, now. It’s a territory by tha sea cliffs. Rosalyn and Erzulie must ‘av brought you here ta rest… but a wicked storm started brewin. Now there’s buckets of snow outside! Fiercest gale I’ve ever seen.” The islander looked over her confused countenance and realized he might have been explaining too much too fast. “My name’s Njord… can I stay in this ‘ere den with you a while? It’s snowin’ something terrible. Maybe we can get ta know eachother? Figure out how ya got ‘ere.” he asked in a friendly tone.