Flycatcher Downs Heaven knows that I'm born too late for these ghosts that I chase

The dwarf didn't need to ask his brother to clarify. He knew exactly where 'there' was, and with two steps, turned his barrel of a frame so he could gaze at the southern mountains. Euron's flip-flopping may have confused anyone else, but Ramsay understood completely. His plans, tentative buds yet in the garden of his mind, demanded that they return there, but also that they leave there behind. There was a lot to be done, words to be spoken and amends to be made, and both brothers needed more time to gather their thoughts before then.

"I am knowing. Not yet, then," he decided, meeting his sibling's impish chortle with a thin-lipped smile of his own, subtly unnerving but not overtly creepy like Euron's sniggering. "Soon, we will go there. But not yet." As he considered the jagged edge of the range against the sky, he thought about going down into the valley within to wreak havoc on Tindome. Delight had been kind to them, but also unkind in trying to tether them; there would be no remorse there.

A scent on the breeze tickled his whiskers, carrying the scents of civilization, and the dwarf turned himself 180 degrees to face north, with small round ears perking. "There?" he mused, shooting his brother a wicked sidelong glance. Where there was civilization, there was often food.