Dragoncrest Cliffs you love in a time of children marching in boots fashioned for soldiers ages apart

Skip Thuringwethil for now. :)

Arlo barely gets a grip on anything when he snaps his teeth forward. The taste of dirt and fur fills his mouth instead, wrinkling up his nose. He does not linger in such a position for long as the child bounces back and is quick to respond—quicker than he expected—and he barely scraps by with the click of the other’s teeth nearby. Arlo puts distance between them and circles back with a low grumble and tightened jaw. He makes half a circle, like a lion and his prey, before he zeros in one the other’s shoulder (similar to where he’d gone before) and rushes forward in one smooth motion in time with a step, surging his head low to come up against the top of his leg and latch onto the roll of his joint.