Moonspear girl

Chakliux’s people had harrowing rites of passage for young men. It reminded Njord of Meare’s Island’s harsh ways and its Atlantian religion. As a younger man, it was something the redtail despised… maybe because he could never quite live up to the accomplishments of his siblings. The rigidity of his people’s ways did not nurture Njord’s different skills… Valtyr had always been empathetic to this fact.

Yet, as a father, Njord could look upon these ways with a newfound appreciation. It was evident they were meant to weave young wolves into society’s fabric… something that Njord felt he had neglected to provide for Stingray and Swordfish. The latter had attempted to find this on his own… and it had led to calamity. Njord had given his children food, shelter, and love… but had he helped them find meaning?

He reflected silently, imagining if Stingray had what it took to endure such rites. Would Chakliux attempt to establish something like them at Moonspear? He thought of Quennell…

“Och,” he made a rough Scottish sound. “Ah wish my scars ‘ad gran meanin’ behind em…” There was disappointment laced in his tone that he permitted Chakliux to hear. “They dinnae come from a good time in my life. My sons ‘ad jus been born… Meerkat an’ I lived up tha coast, then. I swam back to my family’s island tae tell my clan the good news. But there was a coup… an’ I let myself get involved.” He shook his head. “My father didnae survive it and… I killed a young man. He’s tha one who put tha marks on my face.” The other wolf hadn’t been much older than Stingray. Njord’s mouth became dry at the thought.