Such thoughts rolled through his mind, and he ignored his senses. It wasn't until a flash of ruddy red crept in to his view (really, flashing in the corner, since Fox was ambling about) that Njal's head lifted and he sent a pointed gaze towards the oddity. It was as if his thoughts of Proudheart had manifested. The stranger was remarkably similar to his wife in colour, although they were far more reedy than the compact she-wolf he had devoted himself to. Njal felt his spine bristle softly as silence followed the stranger, weaving circles around him that were unsettling; but he caught their scent, and knew that they were a creek wolf, like him. The man relaxed a little, but lifted his front end up in to a seated position regardless, and kept his dull, tired eyes upon the stranger.
He did not know what to say to them, just as they couldn't fathom words in return.