The couple made their way along a faint trail, wending their way higher into the hills. Crag settles himself where he can watch. His natural coloring let him blend easily with the rough boulders, as long as he keeps his wings furled tight along his back.
Witches...
His tail thumps once, then twice. From the mouth of a shallow cave a young female slithers through the rubble to his side. He glances at her, sending his thoughts in a narrow beam. She scrambles away, circling until the hillside is between her and the humans. Her strong legs shove her upward as her wings snap open to catch the thermals.
Crag turns his attention back to the humans as they spread out a blanket and open a picnic basket. He breathes deep. Meat pies... Meadow tea... Bread and heather honey... The male looks up, glancing around. Crag narrows his eyes, remembering a travelling musician and a young Gar so fascinated she crossed the Channel to trade songs.
He shakes the memories away. What did these do so high in these hills? As the human turns his attention back to his female companion, Crag hunkers down, easing himself into position for a long watch.
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