Dragoncrest Cliffs There be no relief from grief

Wing followed his motion with her eyes, peering down the distant coast and wondering how long the journey would be – how soon she could make it. I think I would like that, she mused, her voice thoughtful and airy, nearly lost to the breeze that pushed them along towards the lake.

She felt his shoulder brush gently against hers, and she had to fight the urge to pull away from him. Memories of her poisoned dreams flickered in her mind, telling her that she would infect him, but in defiance of these thoughts, she pressed into his touch and felt a tender edge of relief.

You’ve never raced toads before? she sounded almost surprised. She assumed all young wolves did it. Well, you catch a toad by a stream and take it up the nearest incline. Then you place them in a line and let them go all at once. You have to urge them down the hill without touching them again, and the first one to get their toad back to the water wins.

The thought of her many toad races put a genuine, reminiscent smile on her face. Sometimes you get lucky and catch a toad that hops back to the stream without any effort. But other times you’ll get a toad that won’t move at all or will hop in every direction but the way you want it to go. It’s a game of chance mostly.