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

He felt an itch creep up his spine, nesting in the crook of his neck. He raised one foot and began to kick at himself to alleviate it; contorting his body as quietly as he could. It wasn't hard. There wasn't much meat on his bones despite the recent growth spurt (or perhaps because of it). With his new caretaker more hands-off than his last, and seemingly more invested in visits to altars than any child-rearing, Glaucos had effectively withered.

The boy was quite involved in his scratching and his eyes began to droop. He only paused when a sound trembled through the air, betraying a presence. He sat with his foot raised for a moment before settling it down and peering through the morning haze - spying a pair of bright eyes set in an older face, one he did not know. They moved slightly - lowering their head a little bit further - which was the opposite of what Glaucos had grown used to.

The stranger did not approach him or accost him. He did not mind the reprieve but he was flummoxed by it too. The boy gave a look over his shoulder to make sure his caretaker was asleep (or at least that he was still left to his own devices for some time) and lifted to his paws, walking on eggshells towards the stranger to get a better look.