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The snow was brutal in the fjord this time of year, flakes being almost the size of large apples as they fell in heavy sheets across the village. The cliffs were no better being blanketed in ice and snow, and harder to navigate as it turned dark. Which was why it was Orrin doing the nightly scouting and not someone else in the village, he couldn’t stomach if another one of his people ended up injured-- or worse.
Large muscles strained to pull Orrin’s upper half onto the ledge above, knuckles white from gripping onto the rocky surface. Getting up, with or without a raging snowstorm, was always harder than getting back down no matter how strong someone thought they were. Once he was in a safe enough spot on the ledge the rest of his tail followed, green scales sliding with better ease across the rough hewn rocks behind him. Even through the raging fall of snow he could see the faintest speckles of light from his village, stopping to admire the sight with some bit of pride.
Though scouting wasn’t particularly necessary, no creature in their right mind would try and venture out in the middle of the storm, let alone try to attack his village in it. But as Chieftain it was his job to keep his people safe, so he’d weather anything nature decided to throw at him to protect them.
Orrin was near ready to make his way back down the cliffside and into his bed furs when a certain imprint in the snow beneath him gave him pause. Something had been sliding on the cliffs edge before, the imprints fading fast as new snow worked to cover it, but still there nonetheless.
“Gods above..”
He let out a hiss of worry, mind already a whir of thoughts of one of the nagas who could have ventured out before the storm and was injured somewhere. Keeping his upper half low to the ground Orrin followed the tracks as best as he could, his instincts in overdrive to track down the potential injured naga. When he had come upon them finally, they were buried fully in snow, the furs on their body frozen and doing little to keep them covered in this state. And their size was so small-- *Gods above it had to be one of the young ones!*
Orrin had been so caught up in picking up the poor thing out of the snow and making haste back to the village, he never stopped to truly inspect them. At least not until he was part way to his longhouse and they began to stir, nearly falling from his grasp and revealing that whatever he was holding was no young naga but something with legs. *Human legs*.
*He had found a half dead human in their cliffs and had brought them back into his village.*
The elders weren’t going to be pleased with him.
“Stop squirming you’re gonna--” Orrin fought to maintain a strong grip on the human, his pace quickening as they began to thrash and make *too much godsdamned noise*. He hugged them closer to his body, a large calloused covering their mouth. He practically crashed though his door, his tail coming in quickly after with a rough yank before slamming the door closed. “I said to be still and be quiet. Or else I’ll drop you back out into the snow to freeze.”
*Jörmungandr help us all…*
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