Larksong Grotto Sangilak

The two men met eyes. Little hunter man, he was called. Njord could almost see Kigipigak’s confidence take a physical form and ooze from him. The red-tail was belittled and nettled by it. His posture stiffened, ears pinned back against his skull, as the skin atop his muzzle began to wrinkle in ire. He carefully set Meerkat’s gift in the snow.

Naive to Valmua’s true nature, Njord recalled their last encounter vividly. How tired and sickly she looked. How tenderly they shared affections. The fur along Njord’s spine began to spike. “You abandoned ‘er,” Njord spat in disgust, feeling the sting of his old wounds. “You are a dishonorable man.”

Njord held his ground, thinking his accusation might incite the other man to advance, and did not move an inch.