Dragoncrest Cliffs I was snared by a sickness, some fever in my lungs

Rosalyn accepted his terms and Njord nodded in agreement, thankful that his captains understood to govern their wolves like individuals rather than disposable soldiers. Njord wasn’t many things… but he was genuine, and meant what he said.

His leader’s expression pinched at the mention of their neighbors. It sounded like more than a simple border dispute. Rosalyn uttered the word war and it made Njord’s slate colored hair stand up on end. For a moment, he could feel the adrenaline and testosterone run through his veins. He wasn’t a battle-born ironside, but the thought of proving himself and protecting his new family was enough to get his elaborate imagination churning. He did not know the subtleties of Sagtannet’s and Rusalka’s history with Dragoncrest Cliffs, but he left Meares Island to rid himself of his (in Njord's opinion) oppressive clan. Like Erzulie and Rosalyn, he had enough of bullies.

“War?” he said with a click of his teeth and a tch sound, “I’d like to see them try. Winter is on our doorstep. I'd make them regret even thinking of attacking Rusalka!” Njord exclaimed. He lacked the nuance of a more experienced wolf, but had plenty of vim. Besides, it was the leaders who dealt with diplomacy… Njord would act as Rusalka’s fangs.

“That reminds me,” he said, fur laying flat. “On our way up the coast I met a wolf in the Sound, a man about my age. He called himself Kigip…Piggy… @Kigipigak ,” he explained, tripping on the name. “He said he and a few others were making a new pack to the South of us: a brother and a sister from the North. He said it was ‘where the ravens gather.’ Do you know any place like that? He made it sound nearby.” Njord looked to Rosalyn. If they had trouble with one neighbor, would they have trouble with another?