Dragoncrest Cliffs [BWP] A Lyke Wake Dirge

The crow-colored boy plopped down besides Njord, puppy dog eyes glistening with wetness. Well I hate him, the teen stated decidedly as a streak of anger painted his expression. Njord breathed a heavy sigh out the nose as he lifted a paw to drape a limb around Valravn’s dark shoulders. He knew what it was like to hate the world… hate someone like Atlan. Njord never considered himself a wise wolf, but maybe age finally gave him the capacity to reflect, instead of react, upon tragedy. He had once been very much like Valravn not so long ago.

“Aye, me too Val,” the seafarer agreed as he pulled him in a little closer. “It’s okay ta hate someone like Atlan. Hate moth’er nature. Sometimes ter’ble things happen, an’ we can’t understand why.” Njord let loose a single, stifled, chuckle as an old memory crossed his mind. “I mean, that’s why I stopped prayin’ ta Atlan years ago.”

A few silent moments drifted between them as the islander remembered skipping out of prayer and cursing Atlan’s name in from of his devout family. There was no room is his raptorial Grandfather’s heart to love his apostatized grandchild. He pursed his lips. “But… life has a way of continuin'. Whatever life takes, it'll eventually give back. Every storm will pass. Known’ this, it’s bes’ ta fill yer heart with love an’ memories of the ones we lost. It’s tha bes’ way ta honor them.”