Sleeping Dragon history is a vat of honey

With @Gideon behind him Anselm tracked Ezra to a lone outcropping of stone. Pale silhouettes in the distance moved up and down the steep scaling. Anselm did not marvel after the wonders of goats and their vertical climbing ability; his sights were set upon his son. 

Ever since he’d returned from the Isles Anselm wrestled with his sense of duty. He had seen that Saatsine was not the place for them; he did not want his boys to grow up lean with desperation and always chasing hunger. He wanted stability, and order, and frankly, an easy life that could not be had endlessly pursuing gamine prey animals that could run some forty miles an hour. 

And seeing Ezra now, and noting that distant look on his face, Anselm knew what must be done. Ezra. He motioned for both of them to stand close, his voice hushed and barely concealing the wretched anxiety he felt to breathe such life into his thoughts. Ve vill be leaving Saatsine. And though he was the father and therefore saddled with the responsibility of their lives, he wanted them to know that he was not a tyrant. Ve must do so quietly. It is no place for two young boys to grow.