Hushed Willows Pacific

Njord smelled company before he heard her. A vagrant. A pewter woman who practically disappeared into the gray-colored snow cloud. If were it not for her cedar gaze and dark nose, she might have vanished altogether.

Involuntarily, the seawolf’s hackles became erect with anticipation, good ear cupped forward to listen. His red tail was high and moved in short bursts. A confident man. Curious.

She asked: Was this his fledgling claim?

His body vibrated with… something. Everything! A part of him that had been suppressed under the woman-led pack of Sapphique oozed out. He had groveled for two seasons to restore the favor of his daughter, sons, and the other women of the pack. Njord doubted he would ever be permitted into the ranks of the Rosada again. Only in Meerkat’s gaze did he truly shine.

Njord’s tongue rolled over his jowls. Conflicted.

The man and his wife had entertained the idea of spiriting away to settle their own land. For so long this vision was kept small and close to their chests. They had been plagued with concerns  – how, when, why? Now, he commanded the attention of a stranger. Did he feel… liberated? As if, only now, Njord realized he possessed the ability to see this dream to fruition!

The temptation to suddenly let go of all his work was strong.

What would Meerkat think of this woman? Would she chase her off?

The primitive thought made him smirk.

Njord took a few steps toward the stranger, wanting to take her scent. He felt as if she was a wild horse: too much pressure and she might turn tail. “I havenae decided,” he mused in an iconic baritone brogue. It was a small white lie. If he was being truthful, Njord should have never entertained the idea in the first place. "What do ye call yerself, lass?" he asked in succession.