Moonspear hazine haze

He sighs at the question, gaze meandering once more. "It was beautiful," he murmurs, seeing again the undulating hills, like waves. . . "Green plains, lush forests, all on the edge of a great sea. It was perfect." Homesickness curdles like bad prey in his stomach, and he looks away, feeling. . .

Well, guilty. For slipping once more into nostalgia, when he should be focused on the present. He dips his muzzle to Amekaze in apology. "It is no more," Llewellyn explains. "I am here now, and that is what matters. This mountain is my homeland now. Mynydd is unrecognizable." Traitors. God would see to them in the afterlife.