Dragoncrest Cliffs Archerfish

It was nice to hear that he’d done right. The gentle praise from his father brought about a waving to the son’s matching red tail. They made their way to the rocks and settled atop their watch tower. For the first time since his return, Swordfish found himself staring at the scars on his dad’s face. He had been young when Njord had first gone away, but he did not remember so many horrible marks on his face.

The man seemed cheery, happy as ever. The trip couldn’t have gone that horribly, right? The boy thought to ask, thought about bringing forth all the strange feelings that stirred around in his belly. It was hard to do these things. Swordfish wanted to pretend like Njord’s disappearance had never happened. The more he tried to treat his dad with the same love and care that he did for his mom, he felt sour and strange.

Time would heal it… it had to.

-

There was the beaver. It’s plump behind looked a lot more appealing after hearing that they could be eaten. The tail did not look like much by the way of food. Swordfish thought that his dad could show him what made it worth chewing on. If nothing else, the young seafarer would know what his father enjoyed eating.

Aye, ready.

The young wolf stepped into a hunter’s prowl. His deep-sea eyes shifted toward his dad with an expectant nod. Njord moved quickly, without hesitation. 

Swordfish watched with an impassive stare. The older wolf darted, catching the beaver by the tail. The animal struggled. The boy rushed in, fearing that the teeth of their prey might catch his dad in the face. If the animal could chew through a tree, he could only imagine what it might do to his father's already disfigured features. 

A sharp snap of his teeth at the beaver's neck and it ceased its noisemaking.