Dragoncrest Cliffs get a hold of yourself

The girl was in obvious pain. Who wouldn’t be with wounds like hers? Njord scanned their body and tried his best to not grimace at the sight of puckered flesh and patches of fur, burnt away. Part of her tail was missing, as well. The castaway's teeth jut forward unnaturally and Njord wondered if her jaw had been broken. 

Erzulie was a capable healer, but would she survive? Rosalyn would be sure to try and end this one’s like prematurely, Njord thought to himself. No… she deserved a fighting chance. The sea washed her up on their shores for a reason. Njord had always shunned his family's religion and superstitions. But now, after seeing Haunt's specter, he had begun to reconsider the possibility of the ethereal.

Hver -- ertu? she asked in a foreign language. Though Njord didn't understand, Hver ertu sounded a lot like ‘who are you?’. The red tail gestured to himself with a wave of his paw. “Njord,” he told the woman. He then looked around the den and waved his paw again, as if to motion to their surroundings. “Sapphique.”

He paused and then tipped his chin towards her, ears cupping with a tilt of his head as if to ask, who are you?