Dragoncrest Cliffs negativity, we just dead it like d-con

mireille wheeled upon him with a playful cuff. val did not flinch in time — the lightness of her eyes danced in mirth. he grinned to bear the newest paw print mark on his pelt; it streaked his dark fur with glittering sand.

oh? val grinned, imagining the scene of a bristling mireille standing before svalinn. it would make a pretty pelt. it was chacal who also asked. he supposed, in a way, he had svalinn to thank for his future. do you think he means well?