Dragoncrest Cliffs Blackpine

The longer Njord looked at the poor creature, the worse they appeared. Blistered, oozing flesh ran along her back and haunch. Burnt hair and skin. Was there blood too? It was hard to tell against their sopping wet umber fur. The smell was terrible. Njord’s brows knit. This stranger was on death’s doorstep and there was no response in their unconscious state.

Mireille appeared besides him. Always brave and confident, he could see her green eyes light up with curiosity. “Careful lass,” he cautioned with a skeptical look, “they’re hurt bad.” No telling if or when this one would wake up and lash out.

He moved around the pile. They would need to be freed from the mess before moving their body. “Mireille, ‘elp yer dad clear away this kelp. I will lift tha timber… and stay clear of their teeth,” he instructed. Njord positioned himself under a great log which laid across the castaway, ready to lift it like an ox once Mireille had done her work.