Silvertip Mountain daybreak

From a cringe, where his eyes had fallen apologetically to the ground, Fjall drew his gaze up, up, up to meet the great beast before him. Gold-maned and -tailed, he was the most impressive man he had ever seen. He felt his stomach drop, and a scattering of butterflies fled from the turmoil, fluttering up his throat.

The tension in the titan’s body began to ease, and when he spoke it was conversational instead of confrontational.

“I knew what drew me up here…”

What could that be? The yellowmoon wondered at the deep rumble in his voice. He thought he could sense something there beneath the quiet baritone through which the stranger spoke. Shyly, he looked towards the edge, assessing.

“…but I wonder what might draw another man to these heights?”

Fjall hesitated, as he seemed prone to, but answered earnestly. I came to feel the best winds. It sounded strange, he realized, too strange! He wanted to take it back, to not be so embarrassing… Wh-, what are you doing up here? he asked quickly, hurrying to change the subject from himself.