Blacktail Deer Plateau We kill dragons

Cameo, feel free to skip!

Commotion and the sharp smell of blood were enough to make Malachi change the course of his steps, and he rounded and rerouted back to the stretch of border he'd passed some hundred times in his short stint here. Yet while the man made to the edge with haste, his heart turned with a strange emptiness, as if he had been expecting this very thing to happen, and that the only thing that shocked him was at how soon the peace here had been cut. He blinked away the fleeting memory of a ripped and broken Adlartok, who once lay broken in his land, and pressed forward, even though his mind urged him to turn and run and wash his paws of the Plateau before he could be considered a part of them.

But he refused to listen, and when the others came into sight, he recognized only Dante. The rest were foreign to him, the wounded one in both scent and sight, and his stomach turned when his eyes fell upon her. He approached only close enough to see, and settled in an uneasy stand a few paces off. His only ease came from the lacking smell of sea salt, a scent he searched for instantly upon arrival. Malachi twitched his ear to catch the words the others spoke, the tension strong, and though he wished to run, he remained. This trouble wasn't his - and yet it was, and the understanding settled in him like a heavy stone. He lingered just beyond the assembled group, counting enough present to help the fallen girl, and quietly watched.