Dragoncrest Cliffs Featherweight

“Aye,” Njord acknowledge the young man’s question. “It means ghost,” he said, scottish brogue thick in his voice. “It’s verra rare ta see a doe so pale. Your grandmère might call her a spirit, or Loa.” The seafarer stopped himself from slipping into reciting Haunt’s obituary and, as if it read his mind, the deer slipped away into the darkened Tangle.

He smiled at the youth. Sons often adored their mother. He wondered if Ray or Fish would say a similar thing about Meerkat, despite their rougish nature.

“You are Chacal’s boy?” Njord asked. “What is your name?”