Dragoncrest Cliffs up in arms, it's just the god of thinning dreams,

Her accented words were sharp enough to stop him in his place, and the silver Gona peered coolly over a peppered shoulder as she gathered to her paws. Dacio took this moment to get a better look at her, to furrow his brow in silent curiosity over whatever might have marred such lovely features, before he reminded himself that it was rude to stare. She barely seemed to take notice of it, however, instead urging him to follow her toward the stores with a sweep of her feathered tail.

She was a newcomer, surely, not yet Kru, and the growing stubborness that often accompanied the period between childhood and adulthood was loathe to let him obey. The boy frowned thoughtfully after the strange female, seeing that she was keen to help ease his pain, and finally - reluctantly - padded after her.

The scent of lavender that flooded his nostrils was a strong but welcome one, for his dam had introduced the fragrant plant in a time before he could even remember. It soothed him, as was its purpose, and he breathed deep to accompany his private walk down memory lane. He paused, closed his tired eyes and imagined the warmth of Portia's smile, thr brightness of her vivid peridot eyes, as she beamed happily down at his infant self. Dacio was glad to recall her this way: pure and content, not drowned and broken in the manner his unfortunate father had surely found her.

"What?" Dacio barked, having been so lost in his thoughts that he completely missed what she'd said about putting her fangs near him. He figured it out though, when she went on to announce that she needed to clean his wounds, and he bobbed his head awkwardly. "Uh," he twitched his nose, "not really. But, if you must..." and he presented the worst on his neck for her to see.