Duck Lake I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife

@Tonravik @Echelon - just so you know, he hears Ton's howl and is howling a response. You can arrive and thread if you want, or this can be AW.

The shadow which persisted within his hollow heart had somehow, perhaps through his own desperation, found shape and form. He found this void in the emptiness of the north; it was not what he sought, but perhaps had been what he needed. With the shadow there came conflict, bloodshed, and the discovery of something he thought he had lost. Njal passed through a crucible of sorts and came out of it a changed man — hollow still, but with the shadow to guide him. An ally, where once he persisted in solitude upon the ice.

She was family now. She was Tartok; a piece of his past, and now a stalwart reminder of his present. A future presented itself to him on that fateful day among the pines. This is why he returned - the Sveijarn patriarch, the hollow man of days ago. He did not pursue his fire. His route did not turn north for that was where he came from - no, Njal's path crossed in to the frozen wetlands first of all, in pursuit of the shadow, and then around the lands of Scimitar.

The shadow was faster than he; she was less afraid of discovery, and prowled across the plains without issue. Njal did not do this. He was slow and steady, navigating along animal pathways and near the less familiar groves which dotted the endless flatland, until the dark woman had gone too far. He was left on his own to prowl the edge of the familiar lake, to test its frozen edges with a careful thrust of his wide paws cross the surface.

He thirsted, but did not seek to drink. Njal's efforts to break the ice were paltry indeed, so as not to invite the attention of a patrol or spook any of the wildlife. The fewer clues of his re-appearance, the better. The wandering man had no inclination to answer any questions, and was astute enough to hide himself from the attention of others; he only hoped the diligence of the Creek wolves had slackened in recent days, or else his efforts would be in vain.

Njal stood astride a thick portion of the ice, his rear half upon the soil of the bank. He prepared to try again with his breaking efforts, but as he slipped his paws side-by-side, he heard a familiar voice.

Tonravik. She was still here - their deal had not yet expired. Her voice carried high from the south, from the meadow. He raised his head - forgetting briefly about his desire to remain anonymous - and loosed a returning song.

He howled again, and she and Echelon followed the sound. By then, Tonravik had told the woman everything. Tartok would rise, here, as it had elsewhere. It was simply the natural order of things. This time she and her aokkatti moved in silence, which Tonravik appreciated. Shoulder-to-shoulder they traveled, Tonravik far from willing to be even inches apart from her shield-sister. Tonravik left large paw-prints in her wake, and soon, the mass of the gunmetal man who had aided her was in sight.

Tonravik was glad for his ultimate acceptance of what was to be the future. Whatever might come, they would share in whatever its cost was. Tonravik did not care much for idling. There was no true timeline, but she was not one for procrastinating when it came to the natural order of things. She was first. Tonravik could accept what they had agreed upon given the circumstances. She and Njal had an understanding. For that, she would defend him and he would defend her. The Tartok way. She slowed in her approach, and let out a low whuff in greeting. The raven woman circled him loosely, so that he could meet her aokkatti—@Echelon—properly.

The closeness she found again with Tonravik came as a welcome addition. For weeks she had been so very solitary and at first, that companionship in its renewal was so very strange. But she eased into it and by the time they had come up upon Njal, it was as though they had always been rooted at the hip in perfect synchronization. But that was broken as she allowed Tonravik to take the lead, trailing behind out of particular awareness that accompanied her standoffish qualities. Undermining all of that was the spark of recognition. She had seen him before, somewhere. They had met.

And if this was the wolf who had come to her aokkatti, well then Echelon was most certainly surprised. The smaller, flighty Tartok wolf made her approach with a particular air about her — she appraised him closely, scrutinizing what aspects she could glean from his gunmetal shades. Yes, she was certain of who this Njal was now. "You're from the Glacier," she said pointedly, letting out a breath from her dark nose. There was no trace of that now, however.

login music makes things badass kind of lool

The ice refused to break beneath his considerable bulk, and for the longest time Njal lingered atop the lake's crust with a scowl. He traced an awkward path along the edge, only to mount a new segment and attempt it once more. The lake seemed impermeable. The ice must have been quite thick. As he arched to try one final time, a new call rose up — and he paused, receding from the bank with his attention cocked towards the south, alert to Tonravik's second calling.

When she finally arrived, Njal was moving to greet her. He paused in this as well, but only because of the additional body; the shadow was not one, but two figures now. Tonravik moved to intercept him first, and then turned as if to silently introduce the other - but this woman he knew as well. Perhaps not as much as Tonravik, but they had met previously, he was sure of it.

Her utterance proved him correct, and Njal gave her a sharp-eyed nod. "Soon you will be one of us as well." He commented, his voice rough and lacking in enthusiasm. He looked to Tonravik as he spoke, as if they shared some sort of great secret - and then began to march, to lead them northward.

His words caused Tonravik to peer edgewise at Echelon. Together she and Njal carried a burden. But they would make the most of it. She was surprised to see they recognized each other... then again, she had been gone for a time. No matter. As the male moved forward, Tonravik easily made her way to his side. The woman knew he needed no reminding.

Echelon was a quick wolf, and she knew that she would not need any further explanations than the vague sentence Njal had uttered. Tonravik did not know who his heart was, but imagined she might find this out in due time. In the meantime, ice merged with ice. They forged an alliance as thick as the ground he had just stood on; it would not break. Family bound to family. Much would come from this.

Soon she would be one of them as well? Perceptibly, Echelon's brow raised with question. It was wordless and rhetorical, as she was indeed quick to the catch. If he was going back to the glacier, then she was more than elated. But Echelon also knew that in the stead of the former leaders there were new scents there now. And there was the matter of the strange creature that had encountered her near the borders a handful of days ago. If he was there now, he would be dispatched easily for lingering as she had.

She was hopeful this was their destination and fell in behind the duo, though her closeness remained with Tonravik for the time being. If nothing else, Echelon believed more commentary would come to follow, perhaps further explanation for the plans that they were beginning to hatch. But she did not ask, as she felt it was not her place to question it. Loyalty demanded she merely follow, and follow her aokkatti she would.

This is so short I'm sorry. I just don't know what else to dooo.

He did not expand upon the statement, and instead continued to walk. When Tonravik came close he adjusted his pace accordingly, but did not linger long by her side. As they moved around the edge of the lake and onwards, Njal only reflected on things to come - of seeing Maera once more; perhaps Tuwawi if she remained; the state of Duskfire greatly interested him - and these thoughts imbibed him with enough energy to move quickly. It was imperative that they reach the glacier; whatever misgivings he had prior to his re-entry in to the wilds, they seemed to have been quelled.

Tonravik moved in lumbering steps. As Njal pressed on, so to did Tonravik; it was not difficult to keep up even despite her bulk, for her long legs were used to the quick pace. Tonravik, for a long while, said nothing. But then, she looked to Njal. Perhaps he would not be well-received by his glacier, or his heart. By right the place was his own, yes. But would he shirk in the face of those who disagreed...?

You are prepared, she intoned, half-question, half-statement. Prepared to fight? Tonravik knew this was the way to reinstate himself. Once he dominated, there was no question of anything. Once a place was earned by tooth and claw, Tonravik knew all would be well. Who could argue that? True power? Indomitable might?

Silently, Echelon added to the notion that Njal was certainly prepared for something. There was by then, little doubt in her mind that he had left his post at the Glacier. She wondered why, but it was a question that would remain unasked. Her curiosity came unbridled out of protection, wondering what it was that had afflicted him so and whether or not it would be the crack someone could have used to get a foothold on. But Tartok was just as much of a shield as it were a sword; she imagined it if came to that, they would swiftly squash whatever, or whoever, did the investigating. So instead as they traveled, her gaze alternated beneath the path ahead of them where the two traveled, and letting her icy gaze lock against the finer ridges of darkness in Njal's pelt.

Could fade here? Have another / have 1on1s?

They marched together. Tonravik spoke, and for the majority of their travel Njal was silent; he did not doubt himself capable, nor did he doubt his preparedness. He worried in the back of his mind that this was the wrong move, that perhaps the glacier would fall because of it. Or maybe one of his allies among the ice - if any remained - would see this as a mutiny. He brought with him the power of Tartok to bolster their own strength, but would it be well received? The silver man glanced at Tonravik with a rigid expression, the liquid gold of his usually sharp eyes having dulled; but he said nothing. The glacier was the endgame, but there were miles to go before they reached it, and days of planning ahead - it would not be so easy. If it were easy, he would have never returned.

Okays!

The look was all she needed. Tonravik wore nothing on her own expression, even noting the rigidity of his own. The tension he brought she could bite into, chew; but she let it stand. His demons were not hers to face, though she would take them down with him. He was Tartok, and it was now—whether he liked it, or not—he would come to face the strength they beheld. Their mental fortitude could be admired as much as their physical fortitude. And so now, they merely walked, thinking in the same vein as her aokkatti. There was nothing to betray this. Tonravik and Echelon would strengthen him again, bring him to his wits. Make him whole again, or, at the very least, realize he could be whole—even without a heart.