Bearclaw Valley what mysteries we are

"such is the way of inheritance, i think,"  the inked fowl purled, stepping forth to follow his draw into the beginning frosted florals of this cradled vale, pluskish plume shivering at hocks.  "and such was the way of my own realm, if the truth is needed,"  eyes glinting wry. "since you are in the place of your birthland — i presume? — what, then, are your plans for cultivating it?"