Gyrfalcon's Keep moored

Grayday merely grinned, declining to take the bait. It would take too long to explain that his true connection was not to Silvertip, but to someone who'd been born there. It would take too long to tell her how he'd come to love a red girl with green eyes, tiny in stature, but towering in spirit. He didn't think it was possible to say enough that she'd see the same thing he saw when he looked up at Silvertip.

We should rename it, he thought, to 'Adeline Laughs'.

"Maybe I'll have to repeat the performance," he suggested when he thought she'd finished her ministrations, their muzzles bumping together as he tried to look back down at her face before she'd fully moved away. "And you'll just have to clean me up again."

He gave a little shrug, not minding the thought of a few scars. There were plenty of other worries to keep his mind occupied. "I'm sure I'll be alright," he said brightly, shaking out his pelt once more to get rid of the pins-and-needles feeling from the rest of his injuries. "I'm Grayday, by the way," he added.