Otter Creek On the colorful flowers grown upon the dust and moss

Pallas wouldn't forget - not because it was a magnificent sight to behold, but because it was something in which to hold against him. The hag shifted her elbows as he walked past her, dipping his muzzle into the water to slake his thirst. She didn't overlook that he pursued a conversation in favor of disrupting the awkwardness between them. "It's alright." Pallas said with a sigh, letting her gaze trail out to the otters. "Would be better with breakfast."