Silvertip Mountain funkier than funkadelic wearing pampers

the sacred cave.

everything about this place was strange to val. its topography. its climate. its people. its names.

he followed worldlessly, eyes wide with tentative interest. there was so much to learn, and he was an outsider looking in.

envious of arielle's ease in which she'd adapted to her new life, val watched her close: he drank in of her manner, her posture, her custom, her words -- and that night he would replay over and over every bit he had witnessed until at last sleep came upon him and the pair of yellow eyes visited again.