Sawtooth Spire when i've always been distant, and i've always told lies for love

Peering about as if the herd Mahler mentioned would suddenly appear, Stag's gaze swept down across the spires in muted interest. He didn't love traveling outside of the spire much, but if Mahler accompanied him he might eventually get over his clownfeet chickenshitness.

Hedging a breath into the wind the boy nodded subserviently and began his descent down. At least they would be counting from a distance -- that would eliminate clownfeet's likelihood of getting trampled to death.