The bird looks down at the pack with a look of mild interest, but the haughtiness that pours off of him would drown a small horse.
A small dog spirit, no bigger than a puppy bursts forth from behind one of the many identical lifeless hedgerows.
It stops between the pack and the bird, growling, its hackles raised.
<<Chuck of the Aegis of Zathu, You are in the presence of my master. I am Fierce Defender, and I will speak to you. Why have you come to the Dead Garden in search of an Ularath?>> The small dog has a large bark apparently.
Chuck
Allison
Jacqueline