Dragoncrest Cliffs Featherweight

It was a balmy Monday morning. A blue sky looked down on bright-colored maples and aspens intermingled along the coastal pines. It was the type of day that put a pep in your step. Njord, having rested under Meerkat’s watchful eye, felt better by the day. Yet, like a seafarer setting foot on shore for the first time in many months, he felt uneasy about his place in the seaside pack.

For now, he picked his way through the straw-colored meadow until he came across the path of the broken antler herd Haunt had tracked so many seasons ago. In fact, it had been a full year since her sudden death, Njord remembered wistfully.

Suddenly, on the other side of the field, the herd stepped from the treeline. Njord gasped quietly. There, among them, was a doe white as fresh snow.