Sheepeater Cliff soronúmë

vroom vroom gotta go fast!!1

Oh—!
As Dagwood indeed fell upon the remnants  (not quite?)  of a once-nesting home, the silver stilled, scented, and saw a great buffetting overwhelm over this particular portion of the natural eyrie;
and no sooner had this fiend screamed its fury had the sybil fleet-fled from her position— vaulting o'er crag, swift, prays godlessly that she must be swift and she bounds—!
—a piercing landing betwixt those straining shoulders, those daunting, dreadful wings—
slavering through feathers; the faltering beneath her fangs as she savaged with all the famished might that remained within her—
—and with the boy's propositioned deadweight, brought it to stone and loam, and his monarch near surrendered a rare smile. 

... But they were far from safe; and their first oddity of quarry had yet to be delivered its killing hold;
farther from their haven, too;
all this evident as a shadow befell the pair and malady lacerated the rawboned segments along pale hips— 
—and Andraste was wrenched from the male's presence, frothing at her jowls as she sought to snap at yet another adversary; who now straggled to heave her into the very same skies that have once sundered her.