Dragoncrest Cliffs i don't love being the person who hides in the garage with her secret crib turkey.

Artaax doesn’t regard her any more than she expects from him. A few shakes of his tail, a look from his peripheral, and she glides in along nearby. She moves at a similar pace, equally silent, and directs herself around trees as needed. They do not go far and he finds what he’s looking for, shuffling around a bush. Thuringwethil slows down to watch, nose twitching to scent the wind for what he’s looking for. Drool pools in her mouth and she licks her lips, eager to discover what's on the menu.