Dragoncrest Cliffs 'cause london is drowing and i live by the river

He does not say anything and she narrows her eyes, waiting for his purpose at her borders. He slowly lowers his position to the ground and picks his nose up, exposing his neck. It is uncommon for someone not to speak at the borders when their life is on their line—a single call would be the end if he thought otherwise—but she does not dismiss his silence entirely. Her ears press forward with interest but she lazes her eyes over him. The youth in his face leaves plenty to question and for a moment, she doesn’t expect she’ll get much out of him.

Thuringwethil takes a step forward and sniffs curiously at him but she does not approach within a leg’s length of the other. Long strides are taken around him until she feels confident there is no sign of illness or injury that may take too much from them with little reward. She chuffs, directing the sound toward him with a jerk of her nose upward, settling back in front of him once she’d made her inspection of the young warrior.