Gyrfalcon's Keep Allora, pedala!

Pier was not used to living meal to meal. Hunger and starvation had seemed impossibly distant in his mind - sure, plenty of people died each year from them, but how could they ever catch up to him? Like the hiker who foolishly strikes out into the Alaskan tundra with only a coat and a day's worth of food, whose body is eventually unearthed from the frost, months later, by an inquisitive bear.

He was filled with a nervous energy as his eyes flitted over the falcon's body, a little forlorn.

Eh, it is an ancient language, he said, with muted surprise, fidgeting with his paw. Lately, he did not like to think about the past. The stuff of legends.

Eager to move on from his non-sequitur, he turned his full attention to the stranger.

Il viaggatore, he began. The traveler. Where else have you been, other than the coast? Perhaps he had some useful information, and everybody knew that information was just about as important as water nowadays.