Moonspear smallest wingless

Njord watched in silent fixation as their team of healers inspected and assessed his wife. His one good ear pressed forward and listened to their words and the subtext of their tones. Yet, it seemed Meerkat was in good health… and the father relaxed only marginally at this news.

At his wife’s direction, their wee Narwhal was swaddled in pristine fur. The man’s eyes became glassy with emotion and his nose pressed softly at his partner’s temple in quiet solidarity.

A wave of emotion passed through him as the last glimpse of their baby’s face disappeared behind his wrapping… and Njord, despite all his strength and endurance, could not help but suck in a sob. The knife of mortality cut his constitution.

He leaned on Meerkat, her presence grounding him. “We will find him a good place, mo chride,” he promised her.

Then, out of instinct or memory, Njord began to keen a mournful dirge as he walked beside Sialuk. Its tune was thin and ribboned like smoke… and it mirrored the sadness in the hearts of both father and mother.

Oh what sorrow,
And my little child,
What will I do?
You have gone from me,
Oh my sorrow,
I’ve been left alone after a year,
If only had you healthy here now
Alas, Alas, Ah, without you…
Alas, today…

Njord knew he did not want to bury Narwhal far from their home and their hearts. He found a small and peaceful glen adjacent to their ulaq, and dug a small grave for their son.