Chapter 15
Chapter 15: Footprints in the Foothills
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The pine forest thinned as Zephyr, Fenna, and Star pressed south. Behind them, thread‑thin smoke from Lowmoor's chimneys faded into the pale winter sky. Ahead, the land rolled into rugged foothills where snow gave way to patches of frosted grass and shattered granite.
Star flew short bursts now—gliding fifteen, twenty meters before dropping onto Zephyr's shoulder. Each landing thumped a little heavier; the dragonling's molt had left him denser, muscles packed with new power. His wingspan now measured nearly forty centimeters, violet membrane humming with life.
"Careful, little scout," Zephyr chuckled as claws pricked through his cloak. "I'm not a tree branch."
Star chirped, unrepentant, and nuzzled Zephyr's ear. Fenna laughed, wind carrying her bright voice across the ridge. She pointed toward a river valley below. "Water and shelter. Perfect first camp."
They descended a rocky path, boots crunching on brittle sedge. Star circled overhead, Tremor Sense pinging small critters scurrying under roots. Night shadows stretched when they reached the valley floor, and a half‑collapsed stone tower came into view—overgrown, leaning, but walls still intact on three sides.
"A watchtower from the border wars," Fenna said, examining moss‑eaten carvings. "No fires here for decades."
Zephyr ran a hand over cold stone. "It will serve as a lair." The System chimed approval:
Objective A (Secure Lair) — Location accepted.
Conditions: Weatherproof, hidden entrance, basic resources.