The abbadax shifted on their newly-built dung nests, hungry and irritable. There had been strong differences of opinion when the two-legged creature-without-feathers came creeping into the stables. Three had wanted to devour him on the spot. But Wind from the North had accepted his blood-scent and hissed at the others until they backed away. Wind from the North was vicious. She did not suffer fools and the others feared her.
They were also anxious and uncertain because their own riders had left them behind in this strange icebound place.
Now she cradled the two-legs close to her body, keeping him warm, their hearts beating together. She remembered his smell from her home in Val Tourmaline, though she had not smelled him in a long time. But he used to come to the stables there, grooming and bringing treats. He had been kind to Wind from the North and she would be kind to him in turn.
In the recesses of her ancient mind, she even recalled his name.
Daníel.