Dragoncrest Cliffs Archerfish

Njord’s incisors pinched tight as they could despite their quarry’s struggle! One paw deftly batted at the beaver’s retaliation and within the next moment, Swordfish was at his father’s side.

How quick he was! Njord could not remember being nearly so swift at the same age. Even without a father present Swordfish had grown and blossomed the all same. It made Njord proud and, at the same time, melancholy.

Snap! With a shake, their prey went limp. The bog was quiet. Not even a frog croaked.

“Aha!” Njord’s bellow broke the silence. He laughed like father Christmas. “Guid work, lad! Ye did it!” He bumped shoulders with the teen, expression bright and animated. Maybe his son hadn’t needed any help at all.

“It’s clear tae me ye ‘av a knack for this,” Njord observed. Perhaps he could find ways to help Swordfish explore these talents. He thought of Haunt and the way she diligently observed the Broken Antler herd.

“Now,” he said as he caught a breath, “Let me show ye what yer efforts earned…” Njord made a small puncture in the beaver’s soft hide to reveal a thick lining of pale gelatinous fat.