Redtail Rise where has the water gone?

Relief flashed visibly across Cambria’s face when Berserkr appeared like the white wolves’ shadow. Not only was his face most familiar, he filled the unnerving silences. The Dragonling understood he would need to become fluent in nonverbal communication to fit in here. The challenge daunted him, though he was eager to rise to it.

It’s not my fault Treow didn’t share, the yearling purled, lips pulling into a smile as he glanced between the trio. It was slightly nervous, as he hoped the joke landed. I think it went where it was needed most, he said with a touch more sincerity, voice lowering slightly.

He went absolutely silent when Ulfhedinn came forward to assess him up close. Cambria couldn’t help the rigidity of his shoulder and spine as the pale man sniffed at him. There was a ritualistic quality to it, the yearling realized, and he tentatively nosed the leader’s chin just before he stepped back.

The Dragonling sensed a decision had been made, though he couldn’t be entirely certain without some—preferably verbal—cue. His eyes drifted toward Berserkr as he drew in a breath, trapping it in his chest.