Stone Circle I used to think that silence was golden.

For Skáld, his delivery was uncomfortable, and when things finally did become still and quiet, he found himself unable to breathe. He shifted and squirmed, and wheezed in relief when someone cleared the mask of membrane from his face and stimulated his breathing. 

Still, he was sore, exhausted, cold and hungry. He mewed, not knowing what he needed, but he could feel his strength sapping with every passing moment.