Sunspire Mountains so deep down in your ground

his words are honey sweet, everying about him pretty and delicate and elegant, and therefore untrustworthy. her mother is the only being who is all she appears to be on the outside, gentle as she is delicate, but she believes other such appearances to be facades until they are proven not. there is strength in the male despite his featherlight step, she ought to have expected it from the scars on his face. she moves in besides him and stiffens tensed muscles against the rock. in a moment, too, it shifts and grinds towards the edge, suddenly lighter now that it is moving. it reaches the edge and does not waste a moment in its swift and short drop. 

the goat, flighty and distressed as it is, sees the boulder only as a last straw. it makes a desperate bid for freedom, and laucnhes itself across the near-horizontal incline. for a moment, two, it seems to be making an escape, but then it falters. wounded limb can not take the stress forced upon it and crumples, the goat oddly silent as it crumples, folds, and falls.

it is at the bottom of the cliff a moment later, twitching morosely. tongue flicks across her lips as already she tastes the explosion of blood against her canines, and with a brief gesture she indicates or the male to follow; they will take the long way down. the trail has them cut back and around, and without waiting to see if he will follow she begins the trek downward.