Dragoncrest Cliffs prophet margin

Njord practically fell into the little cavernous burrow. Snow clung fiercely to his pelt, every whisker frosty from the cold air and ice. He tracked in some of the storm unintentionally, clumps of snow rolled inside.

At first he felt the (marginally) warmer air, insulated from the biting wind. Then, he saw a pair of glowing yellow eyes in the dim light and a lithe figure puffed up defensively. Clearly, he had accidentally broken into someone else’s den. At first he thought it was one of the kids – maybe Regin – but quickly he figured it was the newcomer recently taken in by the queens. He had heard through the grapevine that they had found Valravn and this one… Kaertok’s daughter.

“Oi!” he blurted in surprise, “easy there, I’m friendly. Jus’ lost my way in the storm, ‘ats all. The wives found you, right?” he asked as he pressed himself against a wall to make more space for the teen. Although he didn’t want to press her bubble, he really really really didn’t want to go back out there.