Dragoncrest Cliffs I'm a toy, toy

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There came an itch on the bottom of his paws, urging him to take a step or, in the very least, alter the way he was standing. At first, the feeling was ignored. If he had learned anything, it was to be wary of everyone, to question them when he could and not stop until after having been given all of the answers he wanted—but that had been after the incident, back when he was still within the woods and lacking the safety that distance provided. It would be a gradual shift over time, but the change began right then as he recalled how he had once been. When he was younger and had nothing to worry about, back when he could hide behind his father whenever he messed up. Of course, he could no longer do that—he was way too far from his previous home—but that didn’t keep him from trying to act as he once behaved; a diluted variation, but still a step up from the coward that he felt himself to have become.

As he listened, his posture relaxed, lingering somewhere between at rest and fully tensed. The mention of a place of origin stood out to him, but he chose to introduce him rather than ask about it. “I’m Xan,” was all he said, seeing no need to mention his own place of birth. He considered what words might next leave his mouth, but had, eventually, settled on the truth. “Have you seen a small hybrid around here?” asked the yearling. “I thought I was following him when I found you, and I need him for a spar or something.” His expression remained neutral, lacking embarrassment over his error.

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