Duskfire Glacier colors and shapes, the imaginary

Someone did greet him, and they weren’t red. “Meerkat?!” Njord exclaimed when the emissary emerged from the  tree line. She was the last wolf he expected to meet at these glacial borders. For a moment his troubles left him and the redtail was simply happy to see a familiar face. Her impersonation made him chuckle a hearty laugh. “Ahoy!” he said, astonished. Duskfire Glacier. So this was the place of Sveijarn legends.

He suddenly felt so alive, that Njord realized he’d allowed himself to isolate too long among the cliffs. The man thought himself responsible and loving, but a toxic codependency has grown in the absence of a true, reciprocal relationship. For a second he wished to steal Meerkat away with him to Dragoncrest, if only to have a friend – but, ah… she was a part of the pack here, now.

As these thoughts ran through his head, Meerkat would be able to visibly see the spark of joy upon his face wilt away into sobered gloom. Njord did his best to compartmentalize it, and continued on.

“I saw tha glacier from tha Rise, an’ ‘av never travelled out this far East, ya ken. It’s a long story, but… my ancestors used ta live ‘ere.” His blue gaze searched the tall trees for old memories. “Was tha reason I travelled ta Teekon in tha first place…” His voice was thin. An unrealized dream.

He paused, brows knitted. “Yer sister, Haunt… she’s gone, Meerkat.” His blue gaze dropped, heart sunk.