Dragoncrest Cliffs Witness Marks

He trades glances between mother and son and gives a small nod, proffering his good limb- would be moved to tears if he had any of which to shed.

Bless you, bless you, his eyes wish to speak-

The grace of God moved through them and the boy comes empty, unable to offer anything in exchange for their kindness.

Guarded by the strong pair from Sapphique he navigates with slow success, submissively bent until his feet slid on the cooling bank.

He looks out between the dark woman and her red boy, awaiting express permission before submerging his muzzle to gulp for long minutes, lifting his nose only to take air before drinking again.

When at last he can take no more of the lake into his belly he heaves for breath. A knife’s edge is wedged in his throat, but a torn voice perforates through the pain, understanding this may be his only opportunity.

“Cah-racal,” he rasps, “My dad.” Water hacks from his jaws.