Silvertip Mountain but what's inside you?

no, ridgeback nearly answers; stopping himself seconds before giving voice to the thought. that wasn't explicably true, was it? he thinks of ridgeback spire, of the place he and his siblings were born and trained raised. once, numerous times but he can say that he only marveled over the gold inlaid with wood when he had first been allowed to explore the ruins as a cub. after that first time, it became a thing of habit. it lost its marvel. weirdly shaped trees pressed against crumbling rocks that had gold veining along them. ridgeback speaks from his memories. 'trees' didn't quite feel like an accurate description but ridgeback knows nothing else by which to call the doors of the crumbling, ruinous monastery.