Barrow Fields Let it Happen

@Njal :o Northern part of the fields, nearing Ankyara's forests 

Even though Tuwawi could not see the ocean from her watch, the hum of breaking waves and the screams of reeling gulls reminded the red drifter that mother sea was ever present. It was disconcerting to the Sveijarn, who's ire for Caiaphas was matched by her disdain for the coastal scrim, and so she unwillingly broke from the straightforward path and cut into the adjacent plains for a mental reprieve. The few inches of snow only covered the base of taller, dead grass and she moved through the area with purpose and intent. She had managed a kill the day before and it was enough to keep her going for this leg of the journey, but the ember knew she would soon have to bunker down and regain her strength for her final assault. 

The journey was not without its set of obstacles. The matron's skeletal frame complained with each step. Aching joints whined like rusty gears and their attached muscle was taught and stiff. Her body screamed for rest, but the mind and heart would not be beseeched. The dark collar around her neck had grown loose, but its obstinate buckles remained fastened.

Suddenly, a buzzing sound Tuwawi recalled echoed in the air. She looked skyward to see an odd shaped bird unlike any before. The helicopter - though Tuwawi would never know it by name - circled overhead for a minute or two before taking off inland. Her tattered muzzle frowned, wondering if the sight was a bad omen.

It was a blustery day, a cold day, with winter just barely gracing the beach with its presence; it had started to snow before morning broke, and when Njal roused himself he was lightly salted with it. Having spent the night on his own once more - still keen on avoiding the strangers which comprised this strange pack of happenstance - he was greeted with nothing but the salt of the air and the brisk chill of the season upon waking. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and tried to get up, warm up his joints so that the pain in his leg could be bearable for another day. He was mid-stride, reaching out to stretch his back, when he heard a strange noise upon the air.


The sound was droning. It wasn't any kind of bird that Njal recognized, but he was curious (for his safety, at the very least), so he began to investigate. While the sound carried in one direction, there was a dark figure in the air that did not match up with it; had he known that the sound of planes and helicopters often bounced from cloud to cloud, he wouldn't be so confused. But the figure in the sky was something entirely foreign, and the old man was struck with a fleeting knowledge - he didn't know how to respond to this. Should he fear this bird? It was far off and moving quickly. Should he pursue it? Study it? Ignore it?

While watching the strange thing, Njal had been marching along the beach. He was surprised when his paws touched down on grass instead of sand and stone, and appeared vaguely spooked when he looked around his position. Evidently he had been too distracted by the strange bird to notice that the beach had slipped away a while ago. He frowned, and then noticed that the sound of the helicopter was gone. With no further reason to be up on the highlands of Caiaphas' claim, Njal readied to depart -- and mid-turn, caught sight of a familiar ember, which held him fast.

She was watching the sky, and he watched her in a moment of surprise.