Clearly she was ignorant, and Njal should have expected that. Dreams were fantastic things, ethereal, not physical. The wolves of Tartok were the complete opposite, and there was no place for such fanciful notions in their more savage world. Her utterance was met with a small smile, but Njal did not expand upon the topic - choosing instead to usher her further from Echelon, so that the girl could continue with her rest. They would all be busy in the coming days.
When the pair of them had wandered far enough out of the slumbering shadow's earshot, Njal finally spoke.
Sometimes when asleep, it is possible to experience waking sensations within the mind. And, sometimes, these sensations can be remembered.
It was a vague explanation but the best that he could do. Njal was similar to the Tartok wolves to some degree; his family had originally been religious, but not utterly superstitious. Dreams had a limited significance to them. And the wolves of Kindred in the Seahawk Valley had not been too interested either. I once thought that I was chasing fire in the sky, running with my children across the ice. When I woke, the details slipped away, but the warmth I felt remained.
That dream had been one of the catalysts leading to the union of himself and his wife, of their assumed name - Sveijarn - but, it was also one of the roots of his fears. The fire he chased had eventually enveloped the sky entirely, and Njal had woken in a feverish state; these things he did not share, as they were less important to the concept.