They were being watched. By who, he could not know. But it did not matter who, not really. Njal stood with the two shadows at his flank, essentially sandwiched between them, and he waited. They all had to wait, for he would not lead them further in to the lands - this far was likely too far already. So they stood together, until a familiar face appeared; a familiar voice, although distant in its relation within Njal's mind. He recognized the boy after a moment, as he had not seen Tyrr in quite a long time. The boy was... More like a man now. Tall and sturdy, strong like any other northerner. Perhaps on another day Njal would have been happy to seem him - proud, even, despite being unrelated. But Tyrr held questions upon his tongue, questions which Njal would answer, in time. He remained silent - turning a glance at Iqsi when she was addressed, and raising a brow, but otherwise remaining passing.
And then there were three. She came bursting through the foliage with such force, such anger and hostility, that Njal was a little surprised. He settled his golden gaze upon her carefully - looking to her gaunt face, to the emotions as they positively boiled within her, and inevitably resting upon the collar. Njal's ears folded back, and he closed his eyes to the flashing teeth, but gathered his wits and stepped forward - hoping the two wolves of Tartok would stay calm in the face of the fire. They had expected this (or rather, he had expected this, and warned them as best he could). Tuwawi was within her rights to be expressing herself in this way, and he would let her. But the same questions fell from her snarling maw, to which Njal could not remain silent.
Waiting would be a bad idea; Tuwawi was ignited now, filled with a building fury, so he cut to the chase.
I've.. Come home.
He started, but then found himself pausing with doubt; then, steeling himself, he continued. Although I realize there may be no place for me here. I have also brought reinforcements. Allies.
He did not turn towards either Tonravik or Echelon, nor did he motion at them; somehow, Njal felt that if he turned his attention away from his wife, everything would fall to pieces. I have come to apologize, Tuwawi.
As her name fell from his lips he found himself finally breaking eye-contact with her silhouette, his head dropping low with regret, pity, and a semblance of submission. No more words came from the ruined man, and as the scene fell to silence, he felt the pounding of his heart in his ears.