Moonspear sweater weather

Njord awoke to frost.

Monarchs had migrated. Leaves were falling. And, when nature began to slip into its seasonal slumber, men awoke.

The ruy had begun. Deer, moose, and dall sheep vied for breeding rights. Their calls and the sound of clacking antlers could be heard among Moonspear’s foothills. Soon, it would be the time of the wolf… but not until snow fell. Yet, Njord’s blood could not help but begin to run hot.

The cold had also inspired the man’s winter coat to come in. A few shades lighter than his summer pelage, the extra fur hid new scars he had earned over the summer. Freshly coiffed and majestic, Njord loped across the territory, limp-free and feeling invigorated.

He heard Meerkat’s call. Her stubborn illness lingered and she had switched back and forth between their family ulaq and Sialuk’s healing den.

“Mo leannan,” Njord responded, his voice like an echo of his wife’s, “’ow are ye feelin’?” Njord drew near and ran his nose through the fur on her neck, investigating her.