Golden Glade demuts

He dipped his head slightly, acknowledging her curiosity before speaking.

They are swift creatures, built for the open plains, he began, voice measured and low. Not true antelope, but close enough. Their lungs are large, their hearts strong—built to run for miles without tiring. He gestured toward its horns, dark and curved, unlike the branching antlers of a deer. These are shed, unlike most, regrown each year. A rare thing.

His gaze flickered back to her, watching for how she absorbed the knowledge. Their bones are light, their sinew tight. A body made for flight. But their spirit— He exhaled, glancing at the beast’s lifeless form. It is stubborn. They do not fall easily.

He fell silent then, allowing her to process, waiting to see what more she wished to know.