Bramblepoint The shape of brat pop to come

they pressed through the wood and peregrine found himself peppered with the rounded little seeds that clung to one's fur. "only if you return the gesture," lasher joked -- he would have done it either way -- and set about grooming the burdocks from the dark fur, preening sundry bits of debris from the rich pelt as well as untangling whatever knottage had settled into the man's withers. in silence he worked, delightedly and warmed by the renewed bond between the two of them.