Dragoncrest Cliffs from grueling anxiety

“Aye,” Njord agreed as he took a seat besides his leader, hip pressed against hers for comfort. “I am still learnin’ tha taste of it, ‘ow ta drink it.” Even though this was his third winter, the islander still felt like he was a season behind. A late bloomer. Inadequate in some way. Lacking something… Thankfully, the compassionate leadership of Erzulie and Rosalyn was the perfect home for someone like him.

“Kaertok and Raleska were great wolves. Tha bes’ of tha bes’. An’ Rose? He was a mentor ta me. Teachin’ me ‘ow ta fight. Someday I’ll be more like ‘im.” Those were big shoes to fill. A silence blanketed Njord as he turned back to Erzulie, “I am sorry you lost yer daughter,” he told his queen quietly. The memory of her broken and bloodied body strewn across the rocks. They didn’t even know the circumstances of her death. Was she brave? Scared? Did she suffer? “Sharp mind, Raleska,” Njord said. “’Er soul’s at peace now.”

The islander bowed his head to press his muzzle against Erzulie’s shoulder, like someone asking to help carry a large load. Though the dead had been laid to rest, the living had to endure the work of unknotting their tangled minds and hearts.