Bearclaw Valley and we'd break under the weight of any pressure that was ever applied
i will pry his bony fingers free
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trotting along the worn groove that lead to the rendezvous, indra thought she spied @Marten's form just outside the site's clearing. nosing along the brush slowly, the redleaf approached him quietly, her ears cupped and an almost chipper (for indra, anyway) expression on her face. the temperate summer weather, reclining now into an agreeable autumn, agreed with indra -- and she found herself in a favorable mood more often than not.

nudging a big frond of fern out of her way, she came across marten and extended the same gentle nudge to his hip; "what are you doing?" she asked curiously, no accusation or coldness in her voice.
now the wren has gone to roost and the sky is turning gold,
and like the sky, my soul is also turning.