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Make me,
came the stranger's gruff response; and yet even before the syllables finished falling, Njal was moving to counter the denial he knew would come. Rogue wolves were proud creatures, he knew that. He had been that.
Njal was diving in to the creek water in the next moment, plunging with all the power his rear legs could give. Gone were the days of heavy sparring and constant physical care - he was still ragged from the road, exhausted and unkempt after his ordeal of hunting for his son. Kindred was behind him, as was Swiftcurrent and the lessons he beheld in each.
But that didn't mean he was powerless. If it meant keeping this individual away from Maera, he would fight tooth and nail. A man with nothing to lose is not an adversary anyone wants to face. The water rose up around him in a pithy wave, and before the spray could settle, he was snapping savagely at the rogue's neck.