Dragoncrest Cliffs i’m brimming over,

Stupid. Thoughtless. That's what she was becoming.

One moment, she'd been leaning on his stolid self, and made for his muzzle-- stupid, stupid! The next, he whirled on her, as dark and as a storm's cloud and as fleet as lightning; already, she'd made to press to the loam and frost, shaken right out of fatigue. But his hold on her kept her from moving as far as a stilted stance, weight thrown into her hocks and tail trembling between them--even more than she was.

Stupid. She didn't deserve to be handled so singularly; he should be towering above her, snarl and fury and all, the weight of it on her shoulders and stinging her neck. But he didn't. Released, she heard his murmured words, and some little epithet tossed in of that ocean language she'd never learned; barely feeling the fleeting press of nose-to-cheek, her gleaming eyes properly averted.

When he finally continued with his guide, she let her shivers break out freely along her pelt, and stayed where she was for a few heartbeats. Only when her fur had settled - (as much as it could) - she continued on, hating the barrier she'd suddenly thrust up between them bonding. Her voice came docile, reverential -- but so painfully quivering, trying to hide it: "Yes, dragă--" No! Stupid, thoughtless! "I--yes, Verx."

She hesitated in trailing after him, at that, but picked up the pace to meekly fall in step with him again. Began to pray to all those gods, if there were any, that she never believed in.

"I-I will be good." Stupid, soft, useless Brana.