Ghost Lion Crag If you face the fear that keeps you frozen

Artaax would’ve been happy to spend the rest of his time in her company in complete silence. He’d figured they’d said all to each other already that they’d needed to, so why fill the peaceful silence with small talk? Or large talk? Talk of any kind. Unnecessary.

And yet, talk she did. Artaax, fortunately, was too exhausted to lose his temper again, so he listened placidly as he looked around for the half shattered tree that marked where he’d buried the remnants of a goat he’d taken a couple of days ago. He didn’t reply to her until he’d spotted it and began to lead her that way.

”I guess,” he answered simply. He hadn’t really thought of himself as living here before. Sure he slept here every night and guarded the area against “trespassers”, but did he live here? Well yeah. But Artaax didn’t think so, somehow.

It took him only half a minute to free to carcass from its tomb. He pulled the ragged hindquarter out of the ground and brought it over to drop it at her paws. He moved away then and settled onto the ground a couple of yards from her, his mismatched eyes staring off dully into space.