Sun Mote Copse waves pulling me

Only when the silhouettes of Asivaq, Kigipigak, and their children vanished from sight did Njord say goodbye to the Grouse woods to return to the Copse. He felt tired and drained from the interaction and walked with a slow, loping cadence.

Not only had their generous offer been selfishly spurned, but Njord felt grief as the image of his blood-brother became tarnished in his heart. He had long admired and defended Kigipigak… now, he felt confusion and shame as someone he put on a pedastle permitted their judgment to be clouded by… by something… was it ego? Pride? These choices risked the vulnerable lives of children and Njord couldn’t understand them.

Not only this, but Kigipigak would have been a good asset to the Copse’s defenses. The presence and potential threat of the Strath wolves lay heavy in Njord’s mind.

The Laird followed @Meerkat’s trail step by step, hoping to find her at the end like a pot of gold under a rainbow.

Meerkat hastened toward The Taigh, eager to hug her own children, whose company would smooth out the harsh edges of her black mood. It was so out of the ordinary that she slowed her step halfway to her destination, uncertain whether she really ought to subject the two bairns to any semblance of it. She heaved a great sigh, then made her way to the respite instead.

She leaned against one of the cool stones that marked Narwhal’s memorial, mind buzzing like a hive full of angry bees. Her tail lashed and she shook her head in disbelief. Unbelievable, Meerkat kept thinking, her dislike of the pair solidifying in a heart that was usually much softer and tenderer.

The lady of the copse was still pressed against the small monticle when Njord appeared, drifting toward her. Her eyes were hard as flint when she first clapped eyes on him, though they softened some as he approached. Meerkat certainly wasn’t angry with him, though she felt a little bad for her abrupt departure.

I’m sorry, she repeated her words from moments before, then paused before deciding not to hold back, but I don’t like that man. And I think Asivaq is foolish, which was actually one of the kinder words that had zinged through her mind. Why do they treat us and the copse as if we’re beneath them somehow? What absolute bull— Meerkat bit back the second part of the word, turning her head sharply.

Njord found his wife halfway between the Thicket and the Taigh at Narwhal’s headstone. Incredulous agitation was worn plainly on her sleeves – an outfit Meerkat rarely donned. The Laird stood beside his wife and listened as her unfiltered opinions were trusted to her husband’s ears alone.

She offered a small apology. Njord felt this was only for his sake and that Meerkat didn’t regret feeling this way at all. Kigipigak and Asivaq’s hidden notions about their Copse had revealed themselves in an ugly way. Perhaps that was why they had felt bold enough to settle in a territory so near in the first place, Njord speculated. A lack of respect veiled as a chummy friendship.

“Tis I who should apologize tae ye,” Njord replied a beat after Meerkat looked away. “Ah was wrong about Kigipigak,” he admitted soberly. The man’s jaw clenched as his mien became reserved.

Despite their rocky beginning, Njord had always felt a connection with Kigipigak. At one point, both had endured socially difficult paths and yearned to build a home for those they loved. Inviting the Northerner and his family to their community was something Njord never had to think twice about. But now, because of the way Kigipigak chose to isolate his family, Njord’s trust in the man had eroded… and so Njord judge of character was called into question.

“No blood-brother of mine would subject his family tae tha wilds… draggin’ them tae gods know where.” Njord’s voice filled with emotion as he shared anger with Meerkat.

She couldn’t help it. She scowled at his insistence that he owed her an apology. Njord hadn’t done anything wrong, other than put his trust into a bad actor. He couldn’t possibly have known. Meerkat didn’t like him assuming any responsibility for Kigipigak’s actions.

None of this is your fault, she said perhaps more heatedly than she wanted, though her eyes were soft upon his face. I know it must feel awful, to see your friend’s true colors. I know he was more than simply a friend too, she acknowledged, right before her voice sharpened again. But let’s please place the blame where it belongs here.

She glared in the direction of the borders, fuming in silence for a moment as she thought of the brief exchange that had taken place there. Would Asivaq ever realize she’d hitched herself—and her children—to a heartless man? Meerkat wondered. Many had tried to warn her, so Meerkat had no sympathy left for that witless woman.

Three words suddenly burst out of her: Those poor bairns. She paused, then continued venting, I don’t mean to insult their beliefs but leaving the sweep because it’s cursed—and refusing to join us by that same excuse—och! You know it takes much to anger me. And this makes me very angry, Njord.

Meerkat refuted Njord’s apology and the man became contemplative. Deep lines formed on his brows as his clear, cerulean eyes looked inward for nonexistent answers. Njord felt Kigipigak chose to walk the same, sad path despite the Sveijarn-Cortens offering respite. Was something irreparably broken in the man? In his morals? Why else would his family be subject to such pain?

If he or Asivaq ever returned could Njord forgive them? Could Meerkat?

He leaned into his wife, desiring the comfort of her touch.

“Aye,” he agreed with Meerkat’s anger. “Should we do something? Intervene?” he asked, though Njord's dour expression alluded to the notion that it might bring about more complications. "Track 'em, see where they're going. Or we could tell Asivaq's family in Moonglow," he suggested.

When he reached out, she reached back. The contact immediately soothed her, already smudging the blunt edges of her anger. Meerkat sighed, eyes narrowing a little as he spoke. She said nothing, at least not right away.

No, she said, resigned. As much as I want to help those poor babies, it’s not our business. Kigipigak and Asivaq made sure of that. She shook her head. The unfortunate fact of the matter is they’ve made their bed, now they have to lie in it.

Despite her fury, Meerkat did hope the family found a new home safely, where they could prosper. But this would rankle for a while. Presently, she was pretty sure she would be happiest if she never saw hide nor hair of those—those…

Ungrateful assholes, she hisspered, then shot Njord a sheepish glance.

But she didn’t regret letting off some steam. For one thing, those two deserved to be called worse. For another, she felt better for it. Meerkat blew out a breath, shook her head again and then leaned against her husband with a sigh.

I don’t know what drew you to be his aokatti, she mused, hastily adding and I don’t judge you for it. But you and him could not be more different, as husbands and fathers. She pressed her nose into his neck. And for that, I could not possibly be more grateful.