Moonspear I'm gettin' tired and I need somewhere to begin

Sialuk read him like an open book—and in many ways to her, perhaps he was. Amusement flickered in his eyes as he looked over her—glowing in the moonlit night and stunning as always. He nosed the gift to her—but it was she he reached out to—to gather in his arms and embrace—to rain kisses upon her nape as he considered her words.

She had only ever asked him of honesty and offered it in turn. “I was born to the mountains opposite us,” he offered her, his words quiet near the base of her ear. “My father died and left my mother a widow. But a man who was her friend helped raise me. I think he still lives there—I would like to visit him, soon. Seek answers, maybe.”