Phoenix Maplewood I don't feel connected to all of your lies.

There were a great many leaves carpeting the forest floor. When Cambria noticed this, his eyes flung upward to behold the splendorous foliage here. He actually stopped to marvel a moment, wondering how he hadn’t noticed it at first. But then he remembered what had brought him into these woods, so he dropped his gaze back to terra firma and resumed his inquisitive prowl.

He pushed through some dense undergrowth, frowning when he felt some burdocks latching to his pale chest. Cambria paid them little heed now as he struggled through the underbrush, a rather noisy affair. Eventually, he decided to leap over the remaining snares of twigs and other herbage.

He cleared it, eyes assessing his new accouterments. The yearling felt a good shake was in order, though before he could fling the detritus from his pelt, his mismatched eyes peered ahead. They fixed on a figure and Cambria went suddenly very still.

It wasn’t the surprise of seeing him there—the Dragonling quickly recovered from that—but the stranger’s magnificence that snatched Cambria’s breath from his throat. He had never seen such beautiful, striking markings. His coat immediately reminded the native islander of a sandy beach. His eyes were as golden as a molten sunset over the sea. He was trim, with sharp features and a heaviness on his face that didn’t take away from his handsomeness.

Cambria had never felt so utterly transfixed by someone before. He continued standing there, admiring the feathers wound so deliberately in the man’s furs even as he forgot entirely about the litter strewn in his own.