Sawtooth Spire Here are the holy birds

“What fortune.”

He sits like an onyx statue, absorbing every detail of her with desert sun eyes, his slick tail tracing along the bank beside him. “Lovelier yet with company,” He grins.

“I’ve had the pleasure of encountering another disciple, though perhaps, I am too old for the teachings of a new god. She seemed more like to chase me off the mountain than spread the good word,” he laments with an aggrandized sweep to his voice.

“I should quite like a council with your god, now we are to be neighbors.”