But I have promises to keep

@Njal mebe bebe ????

The three slept close to one another, their camp of three. It was before twilight, and the world was shrouded in a new, quiet snowfall. All ought to have been peaceful were it not for Tonravik, who—laying on her side—looked to be running full tilt...

She awoke, jumping to her feet, legs splayed and fangs bared; there was nothing, however, to assault. She had likely startled her two companions, and she herself having no idea what the ruckus she had caused was about grunted lowly. Nothing to see here, the sound said, to put her companions at ease.

Tonravik thought of laying back down but decided against it. Instead she turned, thinking to scout around for a herd to hunt in the morning. Even in sleep, she could find no rest this night.

Quick post so that it is on my threadlog! Hopefully I'll be able to write better tomorrow.

Sleep refused to root itself within his mind, so Njal took to scouring the surrounding area while the two shadows slumbered. He was careful - never straying too far from the pair, nor too close to the glacier-land's edge. The trio would remain secret for a few more days, or maybe even weeks. It all depended on himself, really. Njal was still unsure about embarking upon the path towards his family.

Loitering beneath a stand of pines, Njal's attention was focused upon a mound of nearby snow. He had detected the scent of rodent there earlier in the evening, and had been inspecting the surrounding area with some care; however, Tonravik's abrupt flailing and snarling caused an immediate redirection. In the next moment Njal was striding quickly to the dark patches upon the snow - Echelon's slumbering body and Tonravik's far more coherent one. She seemed repentant as soon as awareness hit her; but the silver man would not dismiss her behavior so readily.

With an inquiring rumble in his throat, Njal strode closer and dipped his head - nosing at her shoulder as an act of reassurance. Evidently, living away from Duskfire with a woman of Tartok had tied his tongue. She was uninjured, interested only in the distant hills. You dream. He muttered, soft so as not to awaken Echelon (as if speaking over a sleeping babe), but also somewhat surprised — it seemed strange to think that Tonravik, or any other child of Siku the realist, would have such an affliction.

An ear cupped backward as she noted the approach of Njal. She had memorized the sound of him, by now; his breathing, the way he moved. He was less spry than Echelon, who was lighter on her feet. Like she herself, he trudged. Tonravik felt his cool nose meet her skin; he might be surprised to find that there was any warmth at all to be found beneath her furs, that she was not entirely a being of ice. Tonravik might be surprised to learn this, too.

His observation was something Tonravik was confused about. Dream, she repeats, still looking beyond them into the distance. Already the memory of it was blotting away, as dreams were always wont to disappear, but Tonravik was not even aware of what had occurred. She had no name for it. Never had her mother told her of dreams, nevermind any wolf. Her head swung and she looked to him, the fact that she did not know what he meant by dream quite evident. But there was some interest. Tonravik, unlike her mother, had some curiosity in her, a desire to learn more than what she knew. Not to earn a heart, but to better herself.

And in turn, better others, better Tartok.

The brutish woman kept her eyes on him, by no means shy of him. He had seen her kill, she had seen him kill. To Tonravik—who knew little else in life—there was nothing so intimate as that.

Clearly she was ignorant, and Njal should have expected that. Dreams were fantastic things, ethereal, not physical. The wolves of Tartok were the complete opposite, and there was no place for such fanciful notions in their more savage world. Her utterance was met with a small smile, but Njal did not expand upon the topic - choosing instead to usher her further from Echelon, so that the girl could continue with her rest. They would all be busy in the coming days.

When the pair of them had wandered far enough out of the slumbering shadow's earshot, Njal finally spoke.

Sometimes when asleep, it is possible to experience waking sensations within the mind. And, sometimes, these sensations can be remembered. It was a vague explanation but the best that he could do. Njal was similar to the Tartok wolves to some degree; his family had originally been religious, but not utterly superstitious. Dreams had a limited significance to them. And the wolves of Kindred in the Seahawk Valley had not been too interested either. I once thought that I was chasing fire in the sky, running with my children across the ice. When I woke, the details slipped away, but the warmth I felt remained.

That dream had been one of the catalysts leading to the union of himself and his wife, of their assumed name - Sveijarn - but, it was also one of the roots of his fears. The fire he chased had eventually enveloped the sky entirely, and Njal had woken in a feverish state; these things he did not share, as they were less important to the concept.

idk what this is

For a little while, as they walked, they were quiet; Tonravik did not expect him to elaborate on what dreams were, then, but she did not mind it. Who knew better than her that some things could not be explained (although she hardly had the mental dictionary). When he spoke Tonravik looked to him again, trying to wrap her mind around these words he said, to comprehend. Although Tonravik knew she had experienced this as she had no other word, she could not remember anything else but the fact that she had been running. Toward something? Away? These facts Tonravik could not bring back to herself.

As Tonravik listened to his words, she thought briefly of her own meeting with Echelon. Her ears twitched, and for herself, she deduced aloud: Your heart. Tonravik knew little of hearts, of longing for anything but to meet her ambitious goals. She knew nothing of heartache or of love. The closest thing Tonravik had come to love was Echelon, though this was a stretch in itself. For Tonravik had once even walked away from that (though with pure and honest intent, to bring in more) without a word. Tonravik knew attachment caused plenty of pain; she had seen wolves die, as Njal himself knew, and in Tartok death was a common theme. They were brilliant and adept fighters, conquerors, warriors... but even warriors lost some battles, and sometimes it cost a life. Echelon was the single wolf Tonravik cared about. Tonravik did not even humor the thought of losing her; she would never let it happen.

There was a protective edge Tonravik felt herself gaining for Njal, too, oddly. He had sacrificed himself on the principle of Tartok alone—this was her belief, even though he had not known she was Tartok initially—and this was something Tonravik found redeemable. Mistakes happened, and typically, Tartok took lives and tongues for them. It was their order of things, when one strayed, to ensure it never happen again. Njal proved to Tonravik wordlessly and in action that he would have gladly given his life for a past error.

On that alone Tonravik believed he could be considered stalwart; he could be redeemed, perhaps even by his heart. Tonravik was an unforgiving wolf, all things considered; but he had been prepared to give his life for something, and Tonravik understood abandonment was what it was. It was rare she was able to put two and two together; she was not thoughtful or intelligent, only instinctual.

But her thought process was this (of course, incorrect, but this was her belief): He had abandoned, and so he found himself unworthy. This was true. He was unworthy. His tongue ought to have been ripped from his jowls so that he be unable to betray secrets aloud... but, his heart would have him return. It was something of a mission. A personal one. Tonravik disapproved of that altogether. But it was not against her... and so she looked to him, and said stonily, If you must go, she blinks, Do not do so without a word. Therein lie his error. Hindsight of course was always twenty/twenty. Tonravik stopped, looked to the horizon, and less sharply, said to him at last: Thank you. She had not forgotten his aid, would not forget it. Her words were not personal, not meant to aggravate or provoke.

Silence wasn't so bad. Njal had grown accustomed to it in the far north, and the sensation had not ended when he met up with Tonravik; she was a quiet creature, like many within Tartok, and so the ensuing silence was not as unsettling as it could have been. Even after his explanation found its place upon the wind, Tonravik was silent. Thoughtful, perhaps. And then, when Njal expected the quiet to only deepen as they lurched together through the snow, she made an astute observation - Your heart. - it was rather surprising.

Had he somehow known that calamity would follow them? Were the beliefs in the gods really a tangible thing? If the gods existed, watching over all of creation as he was taught in his youth, then were they watching now? It was strange to think of some otherworldly entity keeping tabs on him and his kin - stranger still to think, somehow, that his dream had been somewhat prophetic. But his sons were gone. His daughter missing. The fire he had witnessed in the sky was not so grand in his dream, but volatile. He had been afraid of it, whereas now the sky was lit with a myriad of colors to signify the early rise of the sun; it was not the blood red sky in his distant dream.

If you must go, Tonravik calmly began, in time to cut off Njal's thoughts; he focused upon her instead, watching the point in the snow where her paws sank in. Do not do so without a word. And as she looked away, the silver man lifted his eyes to study her. She seemed distracted by something - and that was when he remembered their violent meeting. No doubt the dreams she had - if they existed at all - pertained to the deaths of her comrades. Her kin. But as she gave her thanks, he saw no remorse, heard no sadness there.

We should go to the glacier soon. He remarked quietly, his eyes tracing a route from Tonravik's features and away - in the direction of the mountain's peak. There was plenty of time for him to reconsider such a move, but the trio were already so close. He knew he had to do it, and whatever fears he had of such a return - of his reuniting with Tuwawi - were distant thoughts. In the morning, perhaps. In the light, so that we are not mistaken for enemies. As he said this, Njal turned his eyes upon Tonravik, specifically seeking her dark eyes as if to cement their agreement, wordlessly.

Tonravik was surprised to hear that her words had inspired in him his decision to quicken the pace of their travels. Her head turned and this time she looked to him with no intent to look away. What will you do, she pressed then. She trusted him enough to come this far; but she wanted to know, now, his intent, his thoughts. What if his heart had stopped beating? What if it no longer beat for him, but for something else?

The woman would go and remain by his side, but she knew that this plan with a great reward also had plenty of risk. He was quite a large one, himself; how would he be received? And was he willing to fight tooth and claw if he was not received well for his own place?

He doubted, still, despite all his time away to think and all the conversations to the contrary, Njal doubted that things would work out. But he knew he had to try, and he would try his hardest to convince Tuwawi of his love for her. Maybe she would not receive him with kindness. Maybe she would be too hurt by his betrayal and his failure to harbor any feelings for him at all. If they approached Duskfire and were met with indifference, he would know. And if they were walking in to a battle, then... Things would play out as they played out. Njal did not want to fight Tuwawi, or anyone else in the pack for that matter.

Her question hung in the air for a few minutes too long, becoming stale, but Njal gradually did answer.

I will find my heart, my fire, and confront her. The only way to get the glacier back is to get her back. And this was the truth. Njal was not interested in the glacier itself, but the wolves who lived within its wild haven. Tuwawi, Maera, any others loyal to the Sveijarn name — they were his kin and he would do anything to reunite with them, to prove his loyalty and love to them. As an after-thought his voice rumbled, It may take time, but our arrangement is still valid. All I want is my family back. Of course, things were never so easy.

Tonravik listened to him, and then asked, What if your fire burns you. Would he stay? Or would he move on? Their agreement seemed to depend a lot upon his heart, this fire; but these things were fickle and unpredictable. Hearts stopped, as she had once told him, and fires, well, they were hard to control.

He wanted his family back. She wanted Tartok to grow and flourish beneath her reign. She was sure she would see this again, so very sure. It was just a matter of when. The bear of a woman had nothing to say to that; she did not know what to say. Tonravik wondered if they wanted him back, but knew in time, she would find that out.

Then I will let her. He responded flatly, and without pause. If Tuwawi didn't react in such a way when seeing him, then she wasn't the Tuwawi he knew; she was an inferno, and would engulf anything in her path. The power within her was one of the aspects which drew him in, which made him want to return. She was passionate, and he needed that passion. A fire only burns as long as there is fuel to do so.

If she struck him down, if she loosed her anger upon him as he was expecting, then all he needed to do was wait it out. To let her grieve and hurt and feel all of those things which he himself had felt; to loose it all upon him, until the fire in her heart was lessened to embers. Then they could rebuild. Njal looked to Tonravik after a moment of silence, reflecting upon his own statement, but then began to march - returning to where Echelon lay. He watched her for a few moments, idle, and let out a wide yawn of his own.

Morning would come. And in the morning, they would be on their way home.

Tonravik nodded to him. He was captive to the allure of the flame; Tonravik saw stupidity there, but could not correct him. The Tartok wolf presumed he knew it, too. If he lived for his flame, now, then surely he would die for it. As he yawned, Tonravik felt tiredness return to her. Soundlessly, she turns, and nods to him.

Come daybreak, they would go as agreed. Whatever came from that she could not be sure, but she supported Njal in this endeavor, and they had forged a deal. She moved to meet him at his side, and pressed onward to return to Echelon. Tonravik did not think of how Tuwawi might respond to she and her aokkatti, given the fact that they had not wronged her. Only Njal. But if he was received ill, Tonravik knew she would stand by him; he was Tartok, and one did not simply let Tartok fall to the hand of a fickle heart.