Redtail Rise The Imaginary

Njord ran at a comfortable pace alongside the black wolf. It was a predator’s advantage to have the power of endurance. Soon, the doe would begin to tire. Even if the pair lost sight of their quarry, their nose would lead them in the right direction.

Njord let out an sheepish chuckle when the stranger pointed out that he had been distracted – day dreaming. Rosalyn would have his hide if he had missed such a hunting opportunity. It was fortunate this stranger came along.

“I saw tha glacier in tha distance,” Njord explain honestly, “an it took me breath away. It’s where my ancestors are from.” The Sveijarn name had been born there and where the red fur on his pelt derived from. “Ach,” he shook his head, like wiping an etch-a-sketch clean, “no excuse fer almost missin’ a good hunt, though!”

The doe scrambled up rocky terrain and down they went as the hillside sloped. Njord saw their opportunity. This one was swifter than he, and the Sapphiquian thought of an idea. “I’ll bite at tha haunch, you go fer tha throat,” he suggested. With his larger size, he might slow the animal down enough for the black wolf to land a killing blow.