Dawnlark Plains I drew that glass across his neck, fine as any blade.

When Avicus drifted from the Rise, he silently followed.

He hoped to find her alone for a moment, to talk a bit, maybe just to be in her presence,

 to know her again.

His hopes are dashed by the outline of a dark-clad stranger. Strange to him in the least—he wonders if they may know one another, though it doesn't seem like it.

He approached the pair with a woof and tail lashing; curiosity mixed with muddled impatience.