Little Goat Mountain a too-small mountain

Amsu dipped his head in proper greeting at the male’s question. “Yes, Amsu is me,” he said. “Forgive me for my speaking habits. I know others find it strange.” He couldn’t help a grin then. “But I find your way of speaking just as strange.” The male asked him if he was going anywhere in particular and he sighed. “Amsu is yet unsure,” he admitted. “He is new to these lands and only wishes to find a new home. Somewhere bright and peaceful, for he is not made for war.” He stopped speaking then, afraid of revealing too much of his history to a stranger. He would share it if asked, but he did not like to burden others with the tragic story of his exodus from the desert.