Dragoncrest Cliffs ten thousand bursts of colour

She sees the girl move from the corner of her eyes but she doesn’t look down right away, even as she speaks. There’s a part of her that expected the question, or at least conversation, or else she may not have moved over. There isn’t anything particularly happening in the sky, either, and the sound of the cougar has died down momentarily. Ajatar flicks her tongue against the back of her teeth as she considers how to answer.

“Some,” she then says, lowering her head to cast her eyes at the girl. “I don’t think there’s anything anyone can prove. A lot of speculation,” she offers then. Her voice is soft, but matter-of-fact, and just enough to make the distance without rousing those that sleep behind them. Most of them go deeper to their own little nook so she has little to worry about, but it does not deter her. “I know sometimes they fall from the sky. We’ve always seen it as a blessing, in a way, to be rewarded the presence of one even if we never see it land,” she says though it is merely a comfort. A superstition, perhaps, but she is fond of it just the same. It has given wolves hope.

Ajatar falls quiet for a moment, looking away from the girl and back to the sky. The cavern only offers a little bit of exposure and she moves fluidly to stand, glancing to Dalia with a single invitation, before she finds what she’s looking for.

“There is one star—Polaris—that is used as a guide. You can always direct yourself with it,” she explains though she has a decent sense of direction, she’s used it a time or two. “The bright one, there kind of in the middle,” she points out as best she can, assuming the other has gotten up and joined her. It isn’t the brightest in the sky but it does stand out and wags her tail a little encouragingly.

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