Dragoncrest Cliffs my tongue is sour from the hunger of missing you

Thuringwethil watches as the boy answers her question. A smile formed on her features and she gives him a few shakes of her tail. Catching the bird is impressive, which takes a better skill than she has, and she feels a swell of pride. All three of her children are budding students and she won’t admit it, but put up against the other children of the pack, there’s no competition. She dips her head and sniffs at the kill. Her stomach rumbles but her mouth drools, two contrasting needs her body is giving her but she won’t pass up a gift from her eldest.

“Let’s not eat it on the sand,” she says, her tone almost questioning. “How about over in the grass, instead?” she asks and points off a little further up beyond the cave she’d chosen to stay in. Where the sand thins closer to the cliff’s wall, the grass thickens in the sunlight. Thuringwethil circles around slowly, glancing back to make sure Artaax has followed, and drops to the ground without her usual grace.