He was the very man whom she sought, and the keen quiver of her small muzzle followed the trail of Njal's scent to where he lingered, lost in thought. The cat still lurked upon the glacier, perhaps too angered by their sudden arrival to be rousted; felines were prideful things. But the children — for that was the heart of Duskfire — would not fare well against the advance of tooth and claw.
Truthfully, the continued existence of the pestilence was an affront to Hatshepsut. Her gilded form arrived near Njal and she approached him with deference, but a confidence remained in her step that was not easily curbed. She was Regent, here in name only, but the title was the last vestige of Karnak she had left to her, and the bantam wolf would not part with it easily. "Njal," the woman greeted softly. "How do you fare?"
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