Dragoncrest Cliffs you speak in sonatas going to smithereens

The first sound of snow crunching beneath Blixen’s feet causes her to flinch a little but she doesn’t move from her upturned spot. Her eyes turn slightly, trying to see the approach but her position does little. Her hear thumps heavy in her chest as the wind of anxiety quickly takes hold. Finally when the chuff is made, her head swivels on the ground a little to watch the girl. Blixen doesn’t expect any more of a greeting as she plops down and rolls over. Furi’s lips bare her teeth in a questionable grin as the gravity pulls them awkwardly downward. She licks at her muzzle a beat later and then returns her focus back to the sky.
 
“It’s a clear night,” she says softly with a thump of her tail. “The stars are pretty.” Furi falls silent for a moment, looking up at the great expanse. There is a lot she does not understand about the sky above her—no one has taught her such things—and she speculates about as much as she can but the grasp is often beyond her reach.
 
Furi flops back over, sitting sternal and readjusting for something more comfortable. Her front legs cross one over the other—something she’d noticed Witchbaby do—and lifts her head to stare above. “I saw the stars fall from the sky once,” she explain, recollecting chasing meteors through the sky and playing among the fireflies—stars—and she is hit with the sad thought of her brother. She slowly closes her eyes, fighting back the sting that settles in. “They flew from one side of the sky to the other and w-I found them floating in a field until they burned out,” she tells her, opening her pale green eyes and turning back to look at Blixen, her cheeks burning from slipping over her words.

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