Dragoncrest Cliffs Featherweight

“Surely,” Njord agreed, happy to mentor young wolves in any way. Each child seemed to have a different forte. For Sobo it was the archaic art of healing, while Loko was a wandering buckaneer. Time would tell for Fish, Ray, and Mercy. Perhaps Etienne would find his fancy in language or stories.

Erzulie's doppelganger was chatty and articulate for his age. Njord was sure to encourage this and gave the boy his full attention. His heart ached for the young leaded and, though the outcome was not promising, he wished deeply for Requiem’s safe return.

Etienne, however, held the optimism only a child could. His golden eyes shone bright and clear, as if there were no other option than his brother to come home. Njord saw this and his face softened. Too often young wolves were faced with the harsh realities of life before their time.

“Aye, that’s right,” Njord said with a nod, thinking of Meerkat’s expression when he saw her at the border. “Yer a canny lad, Eti. Life is much like tha sea. Many a wolves leave and return just like shells on tha beach.” He thought of Mercy, then, and her wandering spirit.

“Are ya friends wit the other lads an’ lassies of Sapphique?” Njord asked, wondering if all the children had become friends during his time away.