Moonspear you could turn my sorrow into song

Sleep troubled Njord. There were no dreams or nightmares… only the absence of true rest. Little peace found him, a sideffect of the many trials he and his family endured. For half of his life he had only ever known one home and now, in a strange and unfamiliar place, his body struggled to settle.

He did not sleep deeply. Small kicks and muscle spasms made his body move in energetic bouts. When Meerkat gently licked his cheek Njord’s head lifted, wobbling like a heavy bowling ball, until he propped himself up onto one elbow.

“Sch-bai-rrr,” he slurred in some jumbled Scottish tongue as his eyes blinked into consciousness.

“Meerkat, mo luaidh, yer awake,” he observed drowsily. Njord’s long sealegs criss-crossed as he did a beeeiiiigggggg stretch. Then, he sat up. There would be no convincing the man to go back to bed… if his other half could not sleep, then neither would he. Perhaps, he felt it an unspoken pact as their relationship transcended to a much deeper partnership.

Njord scooted close to his mate. His muzzle pressed into the ruff of her neck. Smelled her. A habit – familiar comfort. Then, his head leaned onto hers, his cheek to her temple, and enjoyed a quiet moment together. Just to be.