Gyrfalcon's Keep red hill

it is the obvious youth, the rapidfire realization that the child is about the same age as his own, give or take, that stills the fiercest of territorial instincts within rusalka and stokes the fire of the paternal ones instead.

a low, soft chuff leaves rusalka's lips, approaching the child slowly, leaving distance as he watches the presumably lost child devour the meat stored in the cache.

hey, rusalka broaches in a stilled, quieted voice. slow down a bit, yeah? eat too much, too fast and you're gonna be chucking it back up. the father in the cairn will not allow him to keep this advice to himself, even if it goes ignored.