Felltree Marsh and beautiful-haired muses

It was a bad premonition. Njord’s brows arced quizzically. Serendipitously, the red-tail came to the same conclusion. “Could it ‘av been… Raleska?” he queried, voice hesitant. “But why would 'er ghost tell us ta leave tha cliffs?” he mused aloud.

With a laugh he broke the tension. “Quick, Erzulie… take a nap an’ dream of something special ta come,” he jested. “A good omen would be nice…” the pirate smiled. If only he knew they would soon lose Haunt… perhaps Njord would have never joked at all.