Gyrfalcon's Keep Clé go mo feistí féin (Left to my own devices)

Kieran walked among the sandy dunes a frown on his face, he hated sand truly he did. Give him a mountain or a forest or a grassy vale and he was fine, but water and a beach and he was like a bear with a sore butt. He lifted his legs high and fast hating the feel of the sandy beach. His frown and growl turned fast into a smile as sandy beach gave way to mountainous terrain and he chuckled to himself "Ní dhéanfaidh aon ní cosúil le féar ar na cosa."

He continued upwards watching as the falcons frequented the drifts of warm air from the sea, and their raucous call fell down from the very heavens to alight on his brown ears. There was not much that could bring a smile to the heart sore warrior, but that sound could. It was the sound of home, of the warrior, it was the call to arms and he listened until his head hurt and he as weary, and then he slumped to the ground and looked down over the sandy dunes and the lower mountain and he sighed, sadness laying like a pallor on his dark brown fur.