Sawtooth Spire They're making plans while I watch TV

Drawn to the banks by his mother's scent, Stag briefly observed Takiyok as she waded in the water, irritation rippling out from her frame in the same manner of the gentle ripples that disturbed the pond's edges. He had not lived long enough to acquire a disdain of hotter climes; so far, Stag had only experienced one season of summer, and scarcely knew what was in store.

He noted his mother's form remained alarmingly lean; he was not used to seeing her so threadbare, and the dampness of her coat only served to further accentuate that she had experienced tremendous hardship at the cost of her condition. Moved to alarmed concern, Takiyok's son fluttered to his dam's side in the wading shallows, ears splayed back as he greeted her silently.