"Fooor" sounded pretty close to "Fornax" to him, so Blight crouched low, extending one wing out to touch the ground.

"Okay. Climb on, and hold tight, okay?" He remembered being carried by Dad the few times he'd been weary: an exhilarating, far-too-fast flight through this very cave, mostly. But Fornax was a long way, and the tunnels were narrow and treacherous, at times--and icy cold. He'd have to be careful making his way up there.

Blight waited until the child was aboard, and then took flight, carefully winging his way direction: Fornax.