Wrong Foot Forward

Her defiant bark of submission was enough to pause his motions, but not altogether end them.

Njal slid around her on to a risen shoulder of snow, making himself slightly taller than her seated form, for a short moment. His smirk slipped off of his square mug when she deigned to retreat, and a part of him wanted to stop her from doing even that. To continue their game, to pester, and maybe teach her something of value; but he had done his job, so the fact that she was retreating should have been rewarding or something similar.

The woman was heading back towards the mountain range and Njal, eager to continue, decided to follow her from a distance. His golden gaze returned to their stoic, hard look while he allowed a number of wolf-lengths to separate them. Maybe he would follow her for a few minutes, or a few hours — he hadn't decided.