Stavanger Bay icarus

He slouched to one side against the earth, the forest debris beneath him being swept aside in the process. One errant pile of tinder remained, littering various patches of the ground beneath him and serving to make his attempt to sleep all the more impossible. Tiarnan lay with one cheek against the dirt for a few moments, but when he heard the sounds of someone crackling through the underbrush, he lifted his head. With his tongue hanging out and a heavy pant quickly assuming control in an effort to cool down, Tiarnan was quite the sight. Lethargic and far too warm in his own skin. The stranger's face came in to view, at which point the boy attempted to hoist himself up; sitting rather awkwardly while forest debris either fell away from his chocolate coat, or tangled within it.

"I am Thistle," said the woman, who made simple motioned between his position and a pile of dubious objects that she had touted along with her. Tiarnan blinked down at the tangle of plants and webbing, but then gave a small nod of understanding. Whoever this was, they did not mean him harm. "Tiarnan." He rasped, slid his dry tongue against his even dryer nose, and then let it hang once more.