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Njal had become accustomed to the sounds of the creek. The tinny flow of the water as it trickled over the stones, the subtle lapping of the fluid against the edge of the land. The sound changed when the stranger walked in to the creek water; it was sucked in to his fur, made sickening as the new drips caused the flow to lose its cadence.
Perturbed by this, and by the appearance of the man in the first place among this moment of reflection, Njal chose to act. He began to stride alongside the creek's edge until he was face-to-face with the interloper. The foreigner was still standing in the creek water, and he would be permitted no further. Heading somewhere?
He queried - although the quiet lull of his voice firmly rejected the answer before it was given.
Beyond here was the edge of Duskfire. Beyond was Maera. Njal would not let this stranger go any further without explanation - and he had half a mind to ignore the explanation regardless. Nobody else would be taken from him. Nobody.