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

ILU Raleska ;__;

They’re not here.

Oh?

Njord’s head snapped up to really look around. He tasted the air before smelling the ground. Sagtannet’s marks had not been revived, the scent of the pack old and dying. In his preoccupation with being jumped by their enemies, and his skepticism of Raleska’s precarious tactics (plus her prickly demeanor), the seafarer had failed to notice how obviously barren Larksong Grotto was. He felt a bit sheepish for not trusting the dark woman and naïve for being acutely unaware of his surroundings.

A smug smile cracked Raleska’s stony expression, but Njord did not balk. A small bloom of esteem for his superior rooted within this islander. He would not forget this lesson: to levy precaution with dauntlessness – a smart use of gathered information. He would become a better scout because of this.

With a small nod he fell into line. There would be no further dispute from him. “Aye Aye, Raleska,” he acquiesced. Njord would trail her back to Sapphique where they would inform @Erzulie, @Rosalyn, and the rest of the pack on their findings.