Moonspear princes who adore you

Yes, of course, Tiuttuk replied, rising to her feet. One day, you’ll be as surefooted as the sheep and goats, she assured him, brushing past Kindle and nudging him with an elbow as she proceeded toward the path that cut the mountainside. She paused to look over her shoulder. And me.

With nary another word, she dashed down the slope, dropping several dozen feet a matter of seconds with a few deft swerves. It was quite the rush. It was tempting to continue on like that, though she paused to catch her breath and look upward. All jokes aside, she didn’t want to leave Kindle behind or hanging.

Quietly hoping her stunt might have impressed him—and unaware that it might have dispelled him of any notions about acrophobia—Pie actually hopped upward again to guide Kindle back to the much more suitable path they’d used to get up here. It wound down the mountain’s face in a series of gradual switchbacks, which he may or may not have noticed during their ascent.

Good thing it’s wide enough for two, she thought aloud as she waited for Kindle to draw abreast of her. Anyway, you’re not wrong about going down vs going up. I’ve always thought the former was more treacherous too. Pie tossed him a sideways smile, then faced forward. Especially in the dark. Let me move ahead a bit. Step where I step.

Thus she led him first one way, then the other, as they navigated the descent, the moonlight palely lighting the way. By the time the ground began to even out underfoot, Treepie could fill her lungs again, though her muscles ticked and twitched. She raised an inky forepaw to tuck a yawn behind it.