Sawtooth Spire a single spark that claims the whole forest

Not tired, Phaedra insisted. Stag smiled to himself as he watched sleep overcome her; first she blamed Thade for the wettening along her thighs, then she curled up in a little ball of silvery fluff around one of his narrow legs (cute, but gross).

Stag knew the laws of this land -- once a puppy fell asleep on your arm, you were not to move. "G'night, Phaedra." The yearling mumbled, carefully resting his head down besides her and eventually, drifting off to sleep himself.