Cricket Creek Bog pomegranate

The other man, lured by the promise of food, obliged Njord. He turned west towards the forest, where the Falls of the Hinterlands lay just beyond. “Ah’ve got a haunch of deer stored by a conifer on the treeline,” he said as they walked together.

“The name’s Njord, by the way,” he added just before the other wolf spoke.

“Aye, Ah live just North,” he swung his head, “in an area called Sun Mote Copse. My wife an’ Ah have been in tha Hinterlands since tha Fall, but we’ve found not many wolves travel this way.”

When they reached the tree Njord began to dig. “Recently, we recruited another, an’ are plannin’ for children in the spring. Our village grows.” With a grunt, he unearthed the frozen meat and threw it towards the vagrant. “What about you? You said you’re waiting for tha season. Looking tae claim an area of your own?” Njord asked.