Blacktail Deer Plateau tumble down

History enraptured Malachi much more than the duties of a warden, and in his childhood he'd chased after the trade with more passion than either of siblings. He'd taken up the position of sentry as a necessity, a requirement in the Vale and to satisfy his father. Even the masters of chronicling were expected to learn a more physical trade to aid the pack, whether as sentry or tracker, healer or diplomat. Only when he reached the Wilds did his roles switch. For the months he'd spent alone, chronicling had proved useless. History, stories - they'd done little for him in the world beyond his sheltered life, and remembering had only hindered him. If only he had spent more time mastering the skills he'd brushed off in favour of the histories - yet here, with Eilidh so attune to his word, he felt the pull to pass on what he knew, for every skill he knew. Her request lit his face with a genuine grin.

The only thing that stopped him from agreeing without reserve lay in a protective embrace around their darker children. A new recruit teaching their young - Malachi didn't know if that was acceptable here, but one look at Eilidh's face sealed his decision before doubt could kick him in the head. If their daughter was so eager to learn, surely there was no problem in that. "Chronicler," he first corrected, "and I don't see why I couldn't teach you, as long as it's alright with your parents." Whether he had the credentials of a teacher was debatable, but Eilidh's mere presence, alight with potential and desire to learn, clouded his thoughts and the worry that would later arise.