Larksong Grotto prüfung

The star-stag nods languidly as the stonewarden mouths along, lagging as he takes in the spruce spires; their diadems looming, brandishing in disorderly wafture. Their soughing, he thinks to himself, it's the exhale of nature. Their shoulders guarding unknown dwarf and mayhaps faeries, he nods to them in respects. It makes him proud to govern the drove of guardians.
he moves to voice his chances of ascent if he were to mount one of these perennial guardians when Mahler notions towards a vernal spit of white lichen ... no, tanglish fur. Kept abreast, Astraeus realizes Mahler's game is nigh. 

The apprentice had yet to see the art of the hunt;
innocence still dissuaded from cruel Mother Nature;
a small-time juvenile cowbird will learn firsthand her indisputable law.

The gargoyle treads after a ways away until their little road explodes into a clashing scene of twinning cliffs and inclines. The foothills roll beneath him, plummeting and wheeling till' they sage into perennial spires. Scatter! he realizes as Mahler is a bear's length ahead up a kind incline. For the first time, Astraeus learns what a climb up a mountain is rather than gingerly gliding down. His breast puffs the needle-cold air as he reaches to hug Mahler's back again. 

"maybe, if ve are lucky, ve vill get to see a dragon."

"nah! you're silly!" the star-child chirrs, "if a dwagon was here he'd been eatin' us! if i were a dragon i'd eat me too, i know i'd taste real good!" When Astraeus grows to be wise and weathered, in hindsight; he wouldn't blame the man if he had reproachful dread of him growing up to be wolf anthropophagite.