A discrete offering to Sylaise

Dante studied the other Talon, nodding thoughtfully. I suppose the Maker is a stingy god. Perhaps the gods of my people can help. His question hadn't been totally answered; the why. But he wouldn't press for more than he needed to know.

The forest breathed, and he could feel the presence of many. But he could not see them. Nor could he sense them. Nevertheless, he grinned. Nah, when I die, I'll be haunting the Talon that takes me down. He joked, though it was the truth.