Sawtooth Spire i'd free all my sons

Cautiously the corpulent little youth crept, easing closer to the little niche in the soil that would soon house the skulls. Their ant-eaten surfaces still held bits of debris and flesh. It was imperative that the little vessels of life were stowed away before everything inside dried out. To the spider's appreciation, the pup pushed them both into their damp graves with great effort from awkward paws. 

A push of wide, inky limb helped re-seat the soil atop them both, moving great swaths over the objects before a hearty pat tamped it all into one final farewell. "Good," he complimented, deeply aware such little efforts were vital to a growing confidence. The forlorn response from the cub was dismissed. There had been little expectations that long, drawn out, complicated explanation would be understood in the first place. There was a comfort in divulging to life that did not hold judgement. 

The foreign tongue was met with a tilt of sharply-cut jawline. The word held no meaning to the spider. "I found them further up the mountain. They live between the rocks there. Rodents. Easy meals," he nearly rambled, hoping the little question was answered; whatever it was.