He knew, somewhere inside that thick skull of his, that anger was not needed here. That being bent out of shape about the situation was a natural response, but not something he should subject others to - especially the young leader. But looking upon Malachi, even just glimpsing him out of Njal's periphery, he realized that there was some spite there. He hadn't just come back to an empty nest, but to a pack that had been essentially usurped from him; rank had never meant anything to the warrior before and yet, with all the other things missing from his life, redirecting his anger towards something as trivial as his position in the pack was... Well, it was something. A tangible thing that was closer in grasp than his missing wife.
But that wasn't what brought him out here, to the edge of the land. Thoughts of Malachi's rise to power were not so prevalent upon his mind; he was thinking of one very specific thing. What if. What if he left? What if he abandoned Maera to the care of Duskfire and its young leader? Tuwawi was gone, Larus was lost, Valtyr - so much had gone wrong. So what if one more thing goes wrong. It was a horrid thought, one which Njal should have banished as soon as it slipped to the surface of his mind. He couldn't help but entertain the idea though - leave, abandon everything, and find happiness elsewhere.
Njal paced along the edge of the land. He could smell where it ended - the ammonia of urine, the wolf musk of Danica and Malachi together, a myriad of other scents... The dwindling mark of Tuwawi. The pace of his heart slowed to something more normal, but the weight in his chest was still unbearable. He stared out in to the dark beyond as he came to a halt, lingering in the quiet - and forgetting for a moment that Malachi was even present.