Stavanger Bay The night so black that the darkness hummed.

If anyone wants a Warden thread, he's passing through and ignoring the warning signs.

Njal had never been this far west, from what he could recall. But by following the coast, he invariably moved westward alongside the roar of the ocean. There was a familiarity to the sound of the sea, although he did not dwell upon that; thoughts of his previous life, before this, before even the Seahawk, were limited. He had been a young man then. Barely old enough to fend for himself, but fend he did. With each roar of the ocean he felt his pulse quicken, his pace become more ibibed by fury; and before long Njal was running full-tilt along the ridge. A pale streak of fur which, with one wrong step, could go tumbling to its end.


When he stopped, he was exhausted. The heat of summer may not have affected him as strongly as another, but he was still built for the cold of the north. His thick pelt had yet to shed. He lumbered along at a slower pace now, dragging his heels more or less, and took great gulps of air. His heart was pounding ceaselessly. And finally, when the man decided to stop and gather his bearings, he found the scent of other wolves. This made his pulse spike once more, as if Njal had not stopped running - but he was too tired to move now.

Slurping his tongue back in to his head, Njal tried to calm down his racing heart by holding his breath; this only made his chest hurt. He tried to breath at a more rhythmic pace, but every subtle sound in the forest made him forget this - he sat alert, scrutinizing every shadow, in case someone familiar were to burst forth. He was in no mood nor state for a fight, but if one found him.. He would be merciless.