Nova Peak to commandeer one of these ships

rhaegal holds his breath for a moment as the incline begins and evergreen woodland gives way to rocky slope. he drops back in full, watching her path and following it as directly as he can. loose rocks and dirt shift beneath his paws though the earth holds steady.

one step at a time, he tells himself, distracted from a 'left, right, left' mantra repeating like a sea shanty in his head when she speaks her melodic words again: reassuring and insisting.

this tugs a chuckle from rhaegal's chest. insistin' do ye? he teases; a bit breathless from his uncertainty. he keeps his gaze trained upon her paws and their path; determined not to look up nor below as they continue the climb.

chacal, he tests her name out; noting how it sounds in her melodic tone and his rough brouge; more like the rumble of a seastorm instead of the lulling calm of low tide. ye say ye come from the sea, aye? he hopes to strike up and keep a steady conversation going, at the very least to distract himself. thus far, it appears to be working to soothe his nerves at the increasing height.

there be many sea wolves like us?