Dragoncrest Cliffs sezi

Fine with me!

When Mireille turned her pretty red face Njord could see the dark, wet fur beneath her eyes. A troubled expression skewed her brows as she explained, exasperated. Though, biologically, she was not of his blood, Njord could see pieces of himself in her. He remembered feeling the way she did, and the severe, cold reaction of his grandfather instructing a young Njord that tears had no place on a boy’s face.

Njord drew himself close and wrapped a limb around her. “There, there sweet lass, dinna fash,” he said, hoping to calm her down. He listened and understood. “Aye, when I was young’r I wanted ta fly away, ” he told her, “but I canna fly, so I swam away instead.” A small smile to lift her spirits. “That’s when I met yer mothers… an now that I know you I dinna want ta fly away anymore. I love you an’ yer sbilings sooo much. Ya ‘av my 'art fer good.”