Moonspear past lives

A sharp ache reminded Njord that attempting to move might be a bad idea. He sucked in a breath and settled back down, pushing through the pain like a man trudging through mud.

“Maybe… staying put is best,” he admitted stubbornly with a weak laugh. The mirth on his face was interrupted by a flash of hurt. Njord always held his wife in high esteem but now, more than ever, he was grateful for such an attentive partner.

He watched as she artfully picked up the turtle’s shell to fetch water, and drank his fill when she returned.

Quenched, and feeling better than before, Njord reclined and reflected on just how happy that both he and Seal were alive. Water had never tasted so sweet.

“Thank ye, mo nighean fionn.” The man’s paw cupped his wife’s cheek, grateful that he had lived another day and could yet again admire the rich whisky in her eyes. Then, his mien became solemn, sobered by the thought that others might not be so lucky.

“We couldnae ‘av escaped without Shard or Bronco.” He had told Moonspear of their merits and bravery. How the four of them fought for their lives and chased off the beast. Yet, he had not – could not have – described the horrific gruesomeness of it all.

Njord continued on with a somber tone. “But your brother… he was grievously injured. A woman, an’ others from Brecheliant, fetched him… he walked away, but…” Njord’s voice trailed in a bad way. “Ye should be with him,” he urged.