Sleepy Fox Hollow my tarnished coat of arms

poet frowns as she makes a small hum in her throat, her expression telling him that she was questioning his words. he resists the urge to roll his eyes, lips parting to speak before there is the approach of another.

the footfalls are heavy — so, not fiona, poet guesses — and come from within the hollow. poet, believing that fiona had informed the others of his presence there is not perturbed by the approaching footfalls and offers the woman a slow rise of his brows as if to say told ya so.

little does he know.