Dragoncrest Cliffs Willow Tree March

The seaman held his bride for only a moment before she withdrew. His expression knit as his gaze searched her face for a reason. The long pauses in Meerkat’s speech drained the confidence in his spirit and the answer, she explained, made his blood chill.

At first, Njord didn’t understand and this showed in the way his brows pressed against the blue of his eyes. Just the other day Meerkat had spoken of their future children and happier times ahead… but it seemed she had concealed the true depths of her hurt. Perhaps even from herself. Every day felt like swimming through a hurricane – the more he fought against the waves the faster his energy drained. A small current would be followed by a stronger swell. Yet, he listened and tried his best to follow.

“I ‘av cut you,” he paraphrased with a metaphor, “an’ that wound stays open. Seein’ Mercy go… it bleeds anew." Njord’s head bobbed as his lips pressed together solemly, eyes falling to the ground. Though he wished he could undo a summer of absence in one action, it would not be so. Time was the only antidote, and even that was not guaranteed to heal the rift he had caused.

He sucked in a fresh breath. “There isna a way for me ta truly ken tha painful path you walked, but I will do my best ta understand an’ help mend what I ‘av hurt,” he promised. “Today should av been a day of fufillment… an’ you shoulda been sharin’ in tha pride and joy. But that – I – it was stolen from ye.”

The islander felt there was little he could say, or do, in that moment. The prison of inaction netteled him. Njord swallowed the resentment he felt towards himself and pushed a breath out his nose. If he endured this emotional shipwreck, would they find a peaceful island shore?