Moonsong Glacier mama cuts like a man-of-war

It was only through talk of sisters that Dutch finally placed that strange, subdued quality about the younger man. It was grief, as the kind he recognized in Valiant. The urge to apologize briefly took hold of his tongue, but thankfully, Sumac carried on with a little more grace than the panther could.

"I can show you some," he said, clinging gratefully to this conversational life ring. "We have a lake here where some seals have taken refuge."

Because it sounded like Sumac's father knew what he was talking about, but Dutch knew just as well that it was a difficult concept to wrap one's head around. It'd taken actually seeing the creatures to understand their strangeness.

They changed directions; fishing could always wait.

Sumac spoke guilelessly, answering his questions with a nervousness that seemed innate rather than circumstantial. Dutch considered briefly that Sumac just didn't find him intimidating, and then realized with a little jolt of shame that these friendly overtures were not meant to impress or appease him. He was only being kind. He warmed quickly after that, perhaps unnaturally so as he hastened to make up for his suspicions.

"We shall have to sing together before you go," he decided, his tail wheeling. A little bounce found its way into his step when he quit his subtle posturing. "I am a great teller of tales. Singing ties in nicely with that. I've spent most of my life as a traveling bard and sell-sword since leaving home. Me and my cousin, Valiant."