Dragoncrest Cliffs Bitterling

quen was not mad at swordfish.

yet some part of him did not like the way the other boy had not stuck around. nor did he like how he had not seen much of the other boy at all after that. as if he had vanished entirely from sapphique.

so perhaps that was why he snorted now, much like a bull elk, at seeing the boy out and about. smoky tendrils of his breath in the cold coming-winter air.

for a long moment he watched from his distant place.

not speaking, not moving, but most certainly not hiding himself.