Heading south the past couple of days was like a walk in the park. Sawyer's decent sense of direction and drive to oblige brought him to a break in the mountainside. A pass with a path with frozen, deadly foliage hidden beneath the snow. He thought the storm might have slowed him down; it was a wonder now how he managed to arrive right on time.
There was a song in his voicebox as he meandered through the virgin frost with a meager 2 lb. channel catfish in his maw. Adelard might have only offered his word, but Sawyer had a mind to sweeten the deal with a gift of his own.
He had just emerged along the side of an iced-over lake when it dawned on him that he was not alone. The wolves of Dead Empress Backwater would not be the first recipients of the offering he had at hand.
Hmm. He hummed a note that was definitely not a part of the tune he was composing, gazing around for spying eyes. A twitch of his nose and disregarding the fishy smell about him completely, and he came to a stop. Looking at the north-western edge of the water from the opposite side, he gently set his bounty on the ground.
A string of barks and a soft howl. Knock knock...
(This post was last modified: Mar 06, 2022, 02:23 AM by Viorel.)
you musn't be afraid
to dream a little bigger, darling
⟡ ⟡ ⟡
to dream a little bigger, darling
⟡ ⟡ ⟡