The Sentinels Or leave a bad taste in your mouth?

STORIES!! I LIKE - mild PP of them starting to walk to the den?

he didn't mind her mispronunciation -- if anything, it caused him to giggle inwardly. osprey's acceptance of his help resulted in a surge of importance rising to his chest -- proudly he stepped forward as she rose and he offered his shoulder should she need to lean on it during her lame stride. "a story.. ah.." he thought for a moment, small words forming silently on his lips as he struggled to recall the tales of his childhood. "the forest i grew up in was called gris dalr - an old, revered forest that was as cheerless as a sunless day. the trees in this forest were perhaps as old as the world itself, black of bark and the tips of their boughs seemed to be swallowed above by clouds. the only thing older than the forest itself was the tribe of boars that lived there -- boars whose shoulders were as large as boulders, with snouts longer than our bodies and hooves as large as our heads. to fell one was impossible -- they were far too large for even three of us to take on. they spoke an old, strange language, perhaps the language of the gods. their gods were unmistakably cruel - at night they would come for wolves and drag those they found through the forest in high shrieks, cast them before the mountain and sacrifice them at the summit to appease their faceless gods. this was an age old custom seem simply as 'the way things were'. our own pack believed in equally merciless deities - before long the forest was locked in a century long war between wolf and boar. these were our ancient ancestors -- and to drive the wicked beasts out of the forest our ancients wielded long sticks of fire brought forth by what was told to be the storm of the world. the boar were forced back by the massive fire... and that is how bacon was born." he grinned sheepishly, hoping his terrible twist on an ancient saga would amuse her the way it amused him.