Sitting in the treetops, hidden amongst the branches and leaves, it does not occur to Callum that he might be being stalked. Even the cinderscourge's cry doesn't rouse him from where he rests against the tree trunk. In fact, he doesn't even recognize it for what it is. To him, it's just another bird of prey, one who might have questionable intelligence for being out in the heat of the day, but then again, he's out, isn't he? In any case, he dismisses the call at first.
He's focused on other things. How long he's going to stay in the shade, for one; it is, in fact, cooler among the leaves, and he's not inclined to leave their embrace any time soon. It's not until he hears rustling below that he glances down, intrigued and wary at the sudden sight of a fyrhund. He's never seen one before, though he knows of them - and what he knows is that they don't belong here. So if that's a fyrhund, then what is it doing in the Hollowed Grounds?
He's focused on other things. How long he's going to stay in the shade, for one; it is, in fact, cooler among the leaves, and he's not inclined to leave their embrace any time soon. It's not until he hears rustling below that he glances down, intrigued and wary at the sudden sight of a fyrhund. He's never seen one before, though he knows of them - and what he knows is that they don't belong here. So if that's a fyrhund, then what is it doing in the Hollowed Grounds?
With quiet words I'll lead you in and out of the dark
