The bear whufs. This way, he says, and starts padding off across the landscape.
Overhead the skies are blue, though the pale wisps of mares'-tail cirrus clouds and the lower, pebbly mackerel-sky clouds that accompany them herald windy weather on the way. Not for some time yet, though. The sunlight spills across the vale, glinting off the pools among the trees, promising spring's proper return soon enough. Belar stops now and again to sniff the wind or rise up on his hind legs and survey the landscape. (That's a hell of a sight, by the way; he's at least eleven feet tall that way.) You know, he says after a while, we're still a good couple of leagues from the Tree. The way I see it, we've got three options. One, we just keep walking the normal way until we get there. Two, you learn how to ride. Or three, you let me make a couple of teeny weeny adjustments to that psychospatial sense thing so you don't get disoriented when I start ignoring distance. I'm good with any of them. It's totally up to you.
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Overhead the skies are blue, though the pale wisps of mares'-tail cirrus clouds and the lower, pebbly mackerel-sky clouds that accompany them herald windy weather on the way. Not for some time yet, though. The sunlight spills across the vale, glinting off the pools among the trees, promising spring's proper return soon enough. Belar stops now and again to sniff the wind or rise up on his hind legs and survey the landscape. (That's a hell of a sight, by the way; he's at least eleven feet tall that way.) You know, he says after a while, we're still a good couple of leagues from the Tree. The way I see it, we've got three options. One, we just keep walking the normal way until we get there. Two, you learn how to ride. Or three, you let me make a couple of teeny weeny adjustments to that psychospatial sense thing so you don't get disoriented when I start ignoring distance. I'm good with any of them. It's totally up to you.