Dragoncrest Cliffs i don't love being the person who hides in the garage with her secret crib turkey.

As Artaax guides are, as much as he can until he’s out of sight, she hunkers down and waits. She has always been proud of him. He easily learns from her, takes after her in more ways than she’d ever expected of him, as if she’d been the one to carry him herself. She is sure she is where she needs to be, waiting eagerly for him to burst through and send them flying, and when he does she moves quickly.

Thuringwethil doesn’t notice he is unable to catch anything, too focused on her attempt to do the same. Birds have never been something she’s been good at but she makes a valiant effort anyway, running and jumping and snapping. She is only met with a mouthful of feathers as the kill flies away haphazardly and she spits out her failure onto the ground, resettling heavy breaths and searching for the pale boy to see him and his efforts.

She frowns when they both come up empty handed and she trots in his direction, bumping his shoulder, and urging him to keep searching.