Dragoncrest Cliffs learning to fly, learning to run

Njord held his breath as if he stood before a forked road, waiting to see which path would open. The three women gathered before him – beauties of the sea arranged by shade. Chacal stood at the end, the darkest. Njord couldn’t help but wonder… who had been her sire?

His gaze turned to Erzulie when the Obsidian began to speak, but her soft expression alluded to the answer she would give. Njord’s smile grew large and he gave a firm nod, honored by the queen’s deliberation.

She then passed the baton to Rosalyn who, in turn, handed it to their heir-apparent. All eyes turned to the young woman, who sang her answer in a sweet lilt. Something about Chacal’s thoughtful cadence and rhymes gave her words more gravity. Njord felt moved, and humbled, by such a positive response.

He bowed before her. “I thank ya… truly. You ‘av made me a happy man.” Njord moved forward to give each woman a small nudge of his muzzle – something between the familiarity of a hug and the formality of a handshake. “I canna wait ta bring Meerkat here. Share our home, tha sea, with her…” his voiced trailed as his imagination got the better of him. “I’ll call fer you all once she arrives.”

Suddenly, a realization set in. That there was much work to before his cheri’s arrival! “If you’ll excuse me,” Njord dipped his head and turned to hurry off. He would spend the next day or so excavating his bachelor den, slowed by the frozen soil.