Larksong Grotto prüfung

His eisen's jubilant tooth-clicks see to the boy's ear and crest,
love-some, boyish titters; a hymn to fatherly dearness. 
this familial love, storge, the ironmaw doles it every which way to all his babes, nevertheless, his bosom is ascertain he's particular, destined; it's being a child of surprise that allows the pupil to be all the more desirous for it; to feast from the hands that coddle him so — it should not be divvied with gluttonous bloodsuckers already bless'ed with their dams; cradling them in their woads!

These selfish, devilish sentiments must be locked away in his bosom forever, yes, as he cannot be put at the expense of the disappointed gaze of the cragsmen; nary
again. If he spits hits curses he'll be gone, left; nary
again. 
never never never just like her
The mild oath is taken upon a fearful grip.

The star-stag snaps out of his mentations only to groan as the pace quickens...tauntingly. Oh, so he thinks issa joke, imma show him a joke, he thinks coyly, bracing for another barrage of ear nips, "well i dunno, maybe they don't eat old people."