Blackbeak Bluff more things are wrought by prayer

It was indeed foolish to be upon the edge of the world, tempting fate. And for a moment or two Pendragon forgot that he was upon the mainland, reminded for a series of intense seconds of the lessons taught to all young wolves of the Vale — that if you fall, you fall for good. Pendragon was tense as he watched the silver girl roaming atop the plateau, although the dark woman was quick to intervene, and when Feint snapped back at Indie with a motion at himself, the man stopped his mind from wandering.

She is correct, he murmured, validating what Indie had been saying — but he didn't get another word in, because the familiar silhouette of Uma was suddenly among them. The tense sitation unfolded swiftly and the man relaxed, his tail raising and waving confidently behind him as he watched Uma approach. The nearer she got, the less he felt like watching the sea or brooding upon what once was. Pendragon shifted position and climbed down from the narrow ridge he had been perched upon, although he did not inturrupt as Uma and Indie were reunited.

It seemed as if everyone knew everyone else, for the most part. Uma introduced the silver girl as Feint, and by Uma's own boisterous intervention, Pendragon knew what to call the dark girl as well. With so many individuals together it seemed impossible for Pendragon to reminisce, or even think, quietly. He began to slip around the gathering but he kept his attention upon Uma and her friends, just in case someone wished to address him. He gave the silver girl a cursory glance and a small smile, but nothing more — it felt as if he'd overstayed his welcome.