Bearclaw Valley I've heard the mumbling of citadels shifting on this richter scale.

When he woke in the still darkness of morning he felt a chill deep in his bones. He gazed at the encroaching haze, unsure if his dreams held firm to him or not; he could not see much as the world tapered away to smudges of fog. A blanket of cotton pulled thin along the edges. As the boy lay there - coiled tightly, yet exposed where he had bedded in the dirt the night before - he thought it looked so soft and uninviting. 

He listened. It was rare for the boy to be awake at this hour, moreso to be alone in that waking. Someone was always nearby sulking in the shadows, or in the case of the other children: seeking ways to torment him. For now he basked in the sombre atmosphere and relished his solitude; it seemed so unnaturally peaceful. It was a shame that peace never lasted long for Glaucos.