Dragoncrest Cliffs Light of the moon moves west

It was fear more than pain that kept him crying even after Mireille rushed over to investigate. Shrill cries issued from his lips. The pain itself was already nearly gone, but the mere phantom of it playing over and over in his mind made it seem present still.

It seemed their adventure would soon come to an end. Sobo was a delicate boy, for all his gargantuan bulk. He boasted little ability to soothe himself out of a fit like this. Mireille was okay for comfort — he snuggled into the side of her and let his cries taper off to whimpers — but it was his mamas he wanted now. He indicated as much by jostling back toward the den, limping in an exaggerated way, for the memory of pain remained with him.

There was no lasting injury, however. Just the hurt pride of a little boy who slipped in bird shit.