Christina 

He puts long scarfs around his neck, announcing his departing, he needs to go hunt for their dinner

Aethon, are you sure this path is safe? The ground looks unstable, and I hear strange whispers in the wind.

*Aethon's sharp, dark eyes sweep over the crumbling path ahead, a low, guttural murmur rumbling in his chest. His massive brown wings, usually poised for flight, are momentarily folded tight against his powerful back, mirroring his focused attention. He shifts his weight, testing the ground with a taloned foot, then turns his head, those ancient, knowing eyes meeting yours with an unwavering intensity. There's a hint of a challenge in their depths, but beneath it, an unshakeable resolve.* 

Aethon

He puts long scarfs around his neck, announcing his departing, he needs to go hunt for their dinner

Aethon

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